A/N: Just a quick thank you to everyone who reviewed and favorited my story! And to my bestie, endsoftime, for helping me sort things out for this chapter, hope you like the final product!

Chapter 4

Kill the Messenger

There's this picture that I have of Maka that has always been my favorite picture of her. No, it's not one of her in a smokin' hot dress at prom or graduation or anything like that. And it's not one of those angled ones where you can kind of see down her shirt. No. It's probably one of the worst photo's you've ever seen.

Patty took the picture, actually. Burst into our apartment one day and started snapping away. I really don't think Patty was even intentionally taking a picture of Maka, she just showed up in the picture, along with a blurry object in the bottom right corner that I decided was probably Patty's finger. Anyway, in the photo Maka is slumped over a book on the arm of the couch, sleeping. Her face is all smooshed up against it, drooling most likely, and her lanky limbs are all sprawled out, along with her disheveled hair. The camera angle and lighting show perfectly the chipping walls behind her as well as a few dark stains on the couch. The photo itself is all crinkled and creased from keeping it in various pockets and wallets over the years since high school. There's just something about this terrible picture of her that makes me want to never let it go. And god forbid she ever finds out I have it.

Over the past few weeks, more insanity wave disturbances had cropped up all over the place. I've never traveled so much in my life! Although, it helped me avoid Maka's crazy-ass father from attacking me over the whole bathtub thing.

Every time we'd arrive at the location of the insanity waves, though, they'd mysteriously disappear. And no one could figure out why.

The routine was: drop whatever we were doing at the time, hop on a plane to destination X, crawl across a desert, the ocean, or the arctic, then be utterly disappointed when the waves disappeared again. Well, there was usually some bickering along the way, but that wasn't out of the ordinary on our missions anyway.

It had become a real anomaly (I think that's the term Maka used) which disturbed and distressed Shibussen something fierce. Maka was increasingly spending all her free time, time not spent on pointless missions, going to the library and remaining there for hours at a time doing whatever the hell bookworms do. I'd simply work out, hang out with Black*Star, or pass out from sheer exhaustion in front of the TV after an 8 hour flight to a god-forsaken-place-of-disappearing-wavelengths.

It was one of those nights again. We had recently returned from some cold piece-of-shit tundra in Canada, and I was exhausted while Maka decided to run off to the library. I was just beginning to fall asleep (you know when your body feels warm and heavy and the blue glow of the television flickers through your half-closed eyes), when I heard a key in the front door. Assuming it was only Maka, I remained where I was in my drowsy bliss hoping she'd be quite about entering.

The door opened slowly, followed by quick, light footsteps, then the door closing very quietly. She must've seen I was trying to sleep. How thoughtful.

She didn't take off her shoes at the entryway, oddly enough, but at least she seemed to be tip-toeing as she walked around. The floor creaked, indicating she was shifting her weight somewhere along the threshold between the kitchen and living room. Soon, I heard the soft steps come onto the carpet of the living room, and a black shape blocked the television's ghostly light.

"S-Soul-kun?" a soft, very high-pitched voice asked, gently shaking my shoulder.

My eyes flew open at the voice: this wasn't Maka at all!

I jumped up onto the back of the couch, my arm a deadly blade.

"Soul-kun! It's me!" the girl said. I blinked a few times and noticed the black shape was very curvy and was nervously gripping her long black pony tail, indigo eyes very wide.

"Tsubaki?"

"Soul-kun! I'm so sorry to come here like this!" she whimpered, shrinking back towards the television a little.

I shook my head and transformed my blade back into my arm. "Uh, no, it's-it's ok," I mumbled, head still a little fuzzy from the sudden alarm. "Um, Maka's not here right now. She's at the library or something . . ."

I trailed off, scratching the back of my head awkwardly.

"Oh, that's ok," she smiled, coming closer to me. "I actually, um, came to see you."

Well this just got a hell of a lot awkward. Let me stress: this was my best friend's HOT girlfriend coming to see me.

"Uh, ok . . . what do you need?" I shifted into a better sitting position, making room next to me for her. Tsubaki didn't hesitate to plop herself down, hands clasped in a wringing motion around her hair.

"Well, um, I'm . . . I'm worried about Black*Star," she said, timid voice on the verge of tears.

I had a sinking feeling all of a sudden.

"You're his best friend," she continued, glancing at me shyly, "maybe you could, um, clear things up for me?"

I sighed and settled back into the cushions. "Ok, shoot."

She took a deep breath and flung her pony tail behind her back. "Well, he's been acting really . . . weird lately. Not his usual weird, just different."

I grunted in understanding.

"And, well, it's like he's deliberately avoiding me, and that's really hard to do in our small apartment, you know? At first I thought I was just being silly and imagining things, but then I noticed how lonely I suddenly felt, like something didn't seem right. I tried talking to him about it, but he. . . well, he yelled at me."

She suddenly started sniffing and making little gurgling noises. Oh great, I was no good at this! But I have to admit, I was shocked and slightly upset that he had yelled at her.

I waited for her to continue.

"That— sniff— that was three weeks ago before our plane ride to Hawaii."

Something in my brain sparked. Someone— maybe Maka— mentioning tension between the two. Yeah, ok, I kind of remember now.

"He's barely talked to me since." This statement earned some shuddered breaths as she tried to control her sobbing. "I don't know what to do. . . he's . . .I . . ."

Now she was fully sobbing into her hands.

Feeling like I should probably comfort her in some way, shape, or form, I stiffly patted her shoulder. Geeze, why can a cool guy like me never know what to do with a girl when they're being all emotional?

"Um, look, Tsubaki," I finally said after she had quieted down a little. "I'll do some discreet snooping to see what's going through that big lug's head, ok? He shouldn't be yelling at you."

She stuttered, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, "O-ok. Th-thank you, Soul-kun. You're such a great friend." She paused to give me a weak smile, then said, "I should probably go."

"Yeah . . . probably."

Tsubaki stood up and gracefully flitted to the entryway.

"Oh, Tsubaki?" I said as she was opening front door.

"Hm?"

"You're always welcome here if, you know, he starts yelling at you again. Don't think that you need to always come with Black*Star because of me."

A smile appeared on her face, much brighter like her normal self. "Hai."

Then she was gone.

I sat there for a while staring at the television, not really watching it, just thinking. Maka did mention something about noticing tension like a week ago at dinner one night. I just ignored it as 'girl-stuff.'

Well, I was feeling hungry since Maka didn't leave me any dinner instructions before she left this afternoon, and it must be serious for timid Tsubaki to come to me, Mr. Shark-toothed albino (people do find it intimidating). So I decided to just call up Black*Star and get to the bottom of this. So much for my nap.

I dug between the couch cushions to recover my phone, flipped it open, and dialed Black*Star.

"Hey, Soul-my-man! What's goin' on?"

"Nothing much, dude. Hey, Maka left me to fend for myself tonight, wanna get a burger or something?"

"Hell yeah! Tsubaki hasn't been around either. Huh. Oh well, hey how about that new burger joint that opened downtown? Mc . . . Mc . . ."

"McGee's."

"Yeah! That place!"

"Okay, sounds good, Buddy. Be there in ten."

"YAAAHOOOO! See ya!"

Shoving my phone in my cargo pocket and snatching my house keys off the counter, I headed out to McGee's Diner just a few blocks from the apartment.

"You boys ready to order?" the waitress, a middle-aged lady who sounded as if she's smoked since her teens, asked us.

"Yeah! I'll have the Big & Meaty with a large onion ring!" exclaimed Black*Star, drooling over the picture in the laminated menu.

"And you, dear?"

"Um, the Southwestern will be fine, with fries."

"Alrighty boys, I'll put those in for ya." She took our menus and walked away.

"Hey! Look at this!" Black*Star shouted making several people in the joint jump. "They've got happy hour on game nights! 'Beer and Baseball.' Now this is my kind of place!"

"Ha, yeah, got that right," I enthusiastically responded.

Soon, the waitress returned with our drinks, Black*Star a root beer and me a Coke, but when I took a sip, I couldn't help but be uncomfortable with the taste.

"Can I get you boys anything else while you're waiting for your food?" she asked, tucking her pen behind her ear.

"Uh, yeah, can I have a Diet Coke instead, please?" I asked, hoping this would solve the problem of my discomfort.

"Yup, sure thing, Hon!" she said, and left once more.

"Diet?" Black*Star asked, clearly holding back an outburst.

"Yeah, diet. Maka's been on this diet kick, so it's all we got in the house. It's grown on me."

"Dude, she's got you whipped!" he retorted, laughing.

"Wait, what?" I squinted at the ketchup bottle wondering if I'd have to fight him for it when our food came. Probably.

"She's got you whipped!"

"Because she only buys Diet Coke? I think you're confused."

"No, man! Trust me, I know the signs."

I closed my eyes and sighed in frustration. We were supposed to be talking about him and Tsubaki, not me and Maka.

"Sooooo, when are ya gonna tie the knot-tuh?" he said while wiggling his eyes suggestively.

"What? We're not even dat—"

"Here ya go, sweetie," the waitress suddenly interrupted, swapping out my Coke for a diet.

"Uh, thanks," I responded and sipped at it. Ah, that was more like it.

Thankfully, talking to Black*Star is like talking to a girl in a shoe store (or in my case: Maka in a bookstore) and the conversation took so many random turns, I had forgotten all about the whole diet coke issue. And, of course, his raucous behavior earned us several heated glares from other patrons trying to watch the television over the bar, or families attempting to enjoy their meal.

Finally, our burgers were set before us, and Black*Star pounced on his almost immediately, making all kinds of disgusting noises and moaning in pleasure. I didn't consume so obnoxiously, but I was ravenous enough that there was a continuous flow of food from plate to mouth.

When we were picking at the remnants of our greasy feast, I attempted to bring up the subject I came here to discuss.

"So . . . how's you and Tsubaki been? We've all been running around so much, we haven't had time to just relax, unwind." I said, taking a swig of my Diet Coke.

Black*Star laughed and slapped the table loudly. "Got that right! We haven't even had a team meeting at Club Venus in over three weeks!"

"Yeah, it's been a while. But how have you two been?"

Black*star smacked his lips and belched before responding calmly (for once), "We've been fine."

God dammit, why did this have to be so difficult? I knew this was going to be like pulling teeth, getting a serious conversation out of him.

"And you guys getting along ok?" I asked, not giving up so early. I hate these kinds of conversations. Dudes aren't supposed to sit around and talk about relationships. It's so not cool.

He didn't make eye contact, and I didn't know whether he was so demure out of the delicate subject matter or his exploding stomach.

"Maka's said something, hasn't she?" he asked suddenly.

"What? Uh, yes— I mean— no— I . . . I've noticed . . . stuff."

"Look," he said, making circles with his index finger in a puddle of glass-sweat. "You've only heard one half of the story, alright?"

"Well then, tell me the other half. What's going on?"

Black*Star still didn't look at me as he replied, "It's none of your damn business, Soul."

Then he stood and called out, "Check, please!" to our waitress. She nodded curtly and hurried off to get it. As we waited in a tense silence, he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye before returning to fiddling with something in his pocket.

"Look, Soul, you're my man, but I need to work this out for myself."

The waitress brought us the check, upon which he quickly paid and left. I soon followed, having to jog to catch up with him as he crossed the street, on the way to the apartments.

"But Black*Star, we're starting to get worried," I said, once I reached him.

His hand reached out all of a sudden, grabbed my shirt collar, and slammed me into the nearest wall, the last thing I expected.

"I told you," he said in a low, threatening tone complimented by an equally dark look, "it's none of your business. Do you think I care about what people think? I know it takes me longer to think through stuff, but I'm going to work this out alone. Just back the fuck off, Soul."

He let me go, then walked off in the opposite direction of our apartments.

Well that went well.

So I decided to not piss him off any further, and headed back home, feeling a shower and some sleep was needed. Plus, Maka would be home by now, possibly with something to distract me from the unpleasant and worried thoughts that plagued me at the moment. But by the time I reached the apartment, none of the lights were on. How strange. Why wouldn't she be home? It was usual for her to at least call if she was going to be out after dark.

"Maka?" I called as I opened the front door, in case she had simply gone to bed early. No reply.

I checked my phone. No missed calls, no new texts.

I didn't even bother to turn on any lights or wait for an indication she was coming home, I flipped open my phone and hit her speed-dial number.

What was that about me being whipped again?

A/N: PLEASE REVIEW! That's all I have to say, thank you.