Maka's eyes fly open as Soul tears himself away. "Who are you?"

Shock buffers the sting of his rejection. Maka's arms are still raised and when she speaks, her voice doesn't even make it to a whisper. "Soul?"

There's nothing but confusion in his face as Soul looks at Maka. "I'm sorry," he says. "I don't know you."

Her hands drop as she takes back a step. Soul didn't know her.

Soul didn't remember her.

"But maybe you mean my brother?" he says when she doesn't answer, scratching the back of his neck. "We kind of look alike when it's dark."

"I mean, anyone looks alike in the dark," he says quickly. "You're actually not the first to confuse us, though it might be the first time someone has mixed up our names-" He breaks off, shaking his head. "Anyways, Wes is in Europe but he'll back in a few weeks. You'll probably be able to catch him at the symphony, he loves giving autographs."

The mention of Wes cuts through her shock. "Wes?"

"World-famous violin prodigy?" Soul prompts. "Currently touring as one of the first violins with the London Symphony Orchestra?"

"Right," she says faintly. She looks away to the streets below. The highways have gotten increasingly more crowded and complex since the last time she had come back to the world and in the distance she spots two moderately wrecked cars pulled over on the shoulder of the highway.

There's a shift of movement in the corner of her eye as Soul steps closer. "You look lost."

Maka looks at Soul. His soul is more than half-covered by the black blood but it still pulses with the same familiar beat. The sudden ache in her heart thrums to the same rhythm. She swallows, hand moving to her necklace. "I suppose I am."

"I-" Soul pauses as he follows her gaze down and then his eyes fly back to her face. "Where did you get that?"

The pang in her chest travels to Maka's eyes. "It was made for me."

"Oh." Soul's expression falls and he hesitates before pointing to the necklace hanging around his neck. "I've never been able to find who made mine so when I saw yours-"

The jolt of surprise Maka feels at seeing the copy of her necklace around Soul's neck isn't nearly as large as discovering he doesn't remember her but she still starts at the sight. Magical items were known for sometimes following their owners but she hadn't thought that meant through different lives.

"There was one other when I was given mine," she says finally. "It was meant for someone special."

Soul's hands fidget with themselves before he starts to take the necklace off. "Maybe you should take it the-"

"No!" Maka reaches out without thinking, stopping his hand.

She freezes as she looks up at Soul-he is identical to how he looked in their first life, which makes the fact that he doesn't remember her cut deeply in her heart.

Her mind flashes back to how he reacted to her touch the first time and she pulls back, looking away. "The person who it was meant for died," Maka says quietly. "But I don't think they'd mind that you have it."

"Oh." Soul bounces awkwardly on the balls of his toes, clamping his hands together. "Were they important to you?"

"Very." She pauses before pushing as far as she'll dare. "It was the same person who made them."

"That...sucks," finishes Soul lamely. "I'm sorry." He gestures at the necklace. "Are you sure you don't want it?"

"The one that I have is enough." Her heart starts to race as Maka hears the change in Soul's tone. It was the same tone he adopted when he tried to wheedle his way out of talking with a particularly pushy courtier.

"If you're sure."

"I am."

Soul shoves his hands in his pockets, exhaling. "Well, it was nice meeting you-?"

"Maka," she fills in. A knot of nervous dread twists in her stomach. She's found Soul but he's still leaving. He wears her necklace but she is nothing in his memory. And even after saying her name, there is nothing in his eyes but distant politeness.

"Maka," he repeats. "I hope you find who you were looking for."

"Thank you." She watches as he walks away, searching for something to say that will make him stay but her mind comes up with nothing.

Maka turns back to the highway but her vision is blurry. She swipes angrily at her eyes. Assuming Soul would remember her or any of his past lives was foolish but she'd been so focused on finding Soul for so long that she hadn't stopped to think about what he would be like when she did find him.

Sucking in quick breaths, Maka presses the heels of her palms against her eyes. How was she supposed to save him when he didn't even remember her?

"You said you were lost." Soul's voice makes her jump. He stands a few feet away, wearing an uncertain expression. "Are you new here?"

She clears her throat but her voice still wavers. "In a way."

Soul is silent for a few moments. "Do you have a place to stay?"

Considering his past year, inviting a stranger into his brother's apartment is not the lowest Soul can sink but it is still ranks somewhere on the lower rungs of the ladder of being a capable and responsible adult.

The motorcycle idles as they wait at a stoplight and Soul moves his head slightly, studying Maka from the corner of his eye. He'd insisted she use his helmet so there's not much he can see of her face, though he does catch the gleam of her eyes reflecting the lights of the city.

He turns back quickly, twisting his head in the other direction as if to check the incoming traffic. When the light changes, he takes off slowly-Maka does not have her arms wrapped around him but instead keeps a tentative grip on the back of his jacket.

He opens his mouth to say she can hold on tighter before swallowing his words. Although Maka accepted his offer, it didn't mean she didn't have personal boundaries-the only reason that she had thrown her arms around him was because she'd mistook him for someone else.

Though he still holds out his hand when they park in front of Wes' apartment building; Maka hesitates when he does and Soul nearly drops his hand, apology already on the tip of his tongue, but then she takes it, hops off the motorcycle and smoothes out her skirt.

Soul presses his palms together as Maka brushes a pigtail behind her shoulder, the glass soul glinting with something shimmery.

He wants to take a closer look but she speaks. "Is this your house?"

"Not all of it," he answers. "Just the top." They begin to walk towards the building and he dances awkwardly for a minute as he decides how much space he should leave between them, eventually settling on the width of another person. "And it's my brother's place."

They're quiet on the elevator, which continues as he leads Maka down the hallway and into the apartment. Maka enters first, looking around the living room. Her eyes light up when she spies the piano sitting in front of the dining room window and she turns to him eagerly. "You play?"

The dissonant clash of notes bouncing off the walls last time he played echoes in Soul's ears. "Not anymore."

His answer seems to surprise Maka and she looks like she wants to say more but instead she nods, holding tightly to her backpack.

Soul clears his throat. "There's a guest bedroom on the left," he says, leading her to the hallway by the kitchen. "It has its own bathroom too."

He can't read the expression on Maka's face as she nods. "Thank you."

Giving an awkward nod of his own, Soul gestures to his bedroom on the right. "I'll be on the right, if you need anything." His eyes widen as he realizes how his words sound. "The shower faucet can get stuck sometimes so if you need help with showering-"

He cuts himself off before he makes his life more of a burning catastrophe than it already is. "I'll be in my room."

"I appreciate it." Maka peers up at his face until he meets her eyes. "Good night, Soul."

There is something familiar in the way that his name curls on her tongue; the same familiarity had buzzed on Soul's skin when she had touched his hand. It sets a dull ache in his heart that isn't completely unpleasant.

Soul turns towards his room. "Good night."

Maka wakes up before Soul does; she breathes in and out slowly in the cool light of the morning, reaching out to the room next to her with her soul perception.

His soul does not beat as steadily as it did yesterday, stuttering every so often, but it's not the frantic rhythm of his nightmares. She rises from the bed, stretching, before she heads into the bathroom.

She frowns at her reflection in the mirror as she washes her hands. It hardly looks like she slept at all and her hair is poking up in almost every direction, which she immediately sets to fixing.

Maka's finished tightening her second pigtail when a loud noise comes from Soul's room. Her heart leaps in her throat as she senses the change in his soulbeat, visions of Soul being consumed by the black blood flooding her mind.

It breaks the self-restraint Maka's imposed on herself as she pounds on his door. "Soul!"

The door opens after a minute and Maka catches a glimpse of a messy room and a bed with half of its sheets kicked off. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Soul rubs his face with one hand. The shadows under his eyes are darker in the sunlight and his skin has a permanent pallidness to it. "I knocked over a glass. Everything's fine."

Soul might not remember the life they shared or his other lives but there are scars in his gaze that span lifetimes. Maka keeps her hands from clenching as she stares up at him. "But are you okay?"

For a moment, the expression on Soul's face clears and when he looks at Maka, it's as if he remembers her. Then he blinks and the recognition is gone. "Everything's fine," he repeats. "Did I wake you up?"

Maka looks away. Soul's eyes are the same rich crimson of his first life, though she doesn't know if he hates them now like he did then. "I'm fine."

"Good." His fingers drum against the door hinge in the way he does when he's nervous and he coughs. "I have to go to work soon but are you hungry?"

"I can go." It's the last thing she wants to say but she knows that his offer had only been for the night, even if he hadn't said so.

"No!" She blinks and even Soul looks a little surprised at himself for how quickly he answers. He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't cook much but we can grab a bite to eat not too far from here."

She quashes the somersault her heart makes. "I would like that."

There's something that looks strangely like relief in Soul's face but she can't be certain. "Let me get ready."

Maka examines the food in her hands. "And you call this what again?"

"Breakfast burrito," says Soul as he unwraps his sandwich. "Have you tried one before?"

"No."

"And?" he asks as she takes a bite.

Her eyes widen and she swallows. "It's good," she says. "Can we get another?"

A corner of his mouth twitches and he pushes the glass of orange juice towards her. "If you're still hungry after you're done."

"Fair answer," she says as she takes another bite. They lapse into silence and Maka steals peeks at Soul as they eat. He looks better than he did in the apartment, though it's not saying much; he carries himself with an exhaustion that can't be solved by sleep, something she only saw occasionally in their first life.

She's quiet for another moment. "How does your sandwich taste?"

He blinks and then he shrugs. "It's fine."

The word irritates her more than it should. "Is there anything that isn't fine?"

Soul looks a little taken aback but when he answers, there is a familiar mock bite to his voice. "Well, the fact that I'm fifteen minutes late for work is not fine."

"Really?" She pushes away her burrito. "We should go then."

"I said it wasn't fine but it is okay," Soul says quickly. "You can finish your breakfast."

He waits till Maka takes another bite before he speaks again. "So what brought you to Death City in the first place?"

Maka pretends the name of the city isn't new to her. "I was looking for someone," she answers as she reaches for her glass, unable to look at Soul. "But they're gone."

Soul picks at the crust of his sandwich. "Is it who you thought I was?"

"Yes." She sets down the glass with more care than necessary.

There is a pause. "Are they gone or gone?"

The taste in her mouth turns bitter. "The latter." She speaks before he can offer any condolences. "And you?" she asks. "Did you move to here too?"

"Not quite." A brittleness settles in his eyes. "I grew up here, though I left for college a few years back."

"Oh, did you graduate already?" she asks interestedly, looking up. Maka has never gotten close enough to Soul in any of his previous lives to get to know him and her curiosity is overwhelming. "What was your major?"

Soul stiffens. "Music theory," he mutters. "I didn't graduate."

Maka bites back her surprise as well as the words of comfort that springs to her lips. They had never helped Soul when he gave what he felt was a disappointing performance in his first life. "But you played the piano?" she asks.

"I tried the clarinet first but the piano was what stuck with me." He nods to Maka. "How about you?"

"College was too..traditional for me," she says, hoping her nervousness doesn't bleed through in her voice. She chooses a semi-truth instead of lying herself into a rambling mess. "I traveled too much to get into anything but I read every book in my library when I was younger."

"Your library?" An eyebrow lifts in mild surprise. "So you're a fellow rich kid too."

"Not quite," she says, shaking her head. "My guardian worked for a wealthy family. She taught me mostly but the library helped a lot." She neglects to mention that it was his family's library that she had read. "I was best friends with one of the family's sons," she adds, staring at the space above Soul's shoulder. "He snuck me in and brought me books when he couldn't."

There's no sign of recognition on Soul's face as he processes her words. "Guardian," he says slowly. "You're an orphan?"

Pink tints his face as he stumbles over himself. "You don't have to answer that," he says in a rush. "I'm sor-"

"It's okay." Maka waves away his words. "My father couldn't take care of me," she says, guilt pricking the back of her neck that she can't explain it was due to her magic. "And my mother left when I was six."

She grits her teeth as she finds herself rapidly blinking away the tears stinging at her eyes. It feels silly to be hurt over something that occurred over a millennium ago but she had never allowed herself to grieve when it happened and was too busy trying to find Soul to think about it in the time since.

Soul holds out an unused napkin. "I can turn around, if you want."

"No need." Maka presses at the inner corners of her eyes and sucks in a breath. "All better."

He gives her a skeptical look but doesn't press it. "How is your guardian?"

She smiles. "One of the best teachers I ever had."

"Did she move with you?"

"Um." Maka fiddles with the napkin, throat closing again. "She died."

"Shit, I'm sorry." Soul looks like he wants to reach out but he clamps his hands together instead. "I swear I'm not trying to make you cry."

"I'd hope not." She tries to keep her voice light. "I think about her everyday and that's enough."

There's silence and then Soul speaks again. "So you're alone then."

Maka gives him a mock glare. "I thought you were trying not to make me cry."

"Not that kind of alone," he says hastily. "I was just-" He breaks off and stares into his coffee as if it'll speak for him.

Soul looks up. "Do you want to come to work with me?"

After his shift, Soul stops by a row of shops on the way back to the apartment and Maka cranes her head up to look at the signs, frowning in confusion. "Why are we stopping here?"

"Short-lived surprise," he answers, glancing at Maka. "I should only be a minute, mind watching the bike?"

She nods and watches as he disappears into a store, crossing her arms and leaning against the motorcycle. Maka's fingers tap against her arms as she thinks about the day.

There wasn't much time to talk during the time that Soul delivered pizzas, which she had been fascinated to watch him make with Stein when they returned to the shop. When he hadn't been making pizzas, he was taking customers' orders, which hadn't left room to talk.

She'd filled the time by talking to his boss and his fellow delivery boy, both of whom she liked. Stein was reticent and slightly eccentric with his questions to Maka about various species' anatomy but mostly he had shown her pictures of his unborn baby, which she'd had to fight herself not to ask how such a picture was made. Meanwhile Black Star spoke enough for a dozen people, his blue hair a rather daring shade. She'd been a bit alarmed when he spoke of defeating God until she learned he was talking about a video game, though she had no idea what that was.

From time to time, Soul had jumped in, usually when Black Star was being too pushy. But there was a silence about him; she'd felt it when they were talking but it'd become obvious at the shop. He dodged the questions Stein aimed at him while they kneaded pizza dough with short non-answers and ducked away from the playful jab Black Star gave him as a goodbye. His soul flickers like a mirage dissipating in the sun and it fills Maka with a sharp kind of dread to see how quickly the curse has consumed him.

She has no idea what telling Soul about the curse will do, whether it will speed it up or swallow him whole right away. She has no idea what she's doing in general, a voice from the back of her mind reminds her. Following Soul may not be a decision Maka regrets but it was an impulsive one and breaking curses the magnitude of Medusa's is something Mabaa never taught her.

Approaching footsteps prompts her to raise her head and she sees Soul walking towards her, brand-new helmet in hand. "It has wings," he says when he reaches Maka, holding it out.

She takes the helmet, painted a glossy black, and runs a hand over the white wings embossed on the sides. "I saw the wings on your backpack and figured you'd like them on a helmet too," Soul says as Maka continues to examine the helmet. "We can take it back if you don't like it and choose another but safety is imp-"

"I love it," she says, interrupting him. The helmet speaks of permanence, even if it's not the kind she thought of, and a quiet hope fills her heart as she pulls it on.

"Oh." Soul blinks. "Good."

Adjusting the straps isn't as easy as Soul had demonstrated in the morning, however, and she huffs in frustration.

"Here." Soul moves closer, guiding her fingers. There is a heat that courses through Maka at his touch and she desperately hopes Soul isn't able to see through the visor how much her cheeks have reddened.

Soul doesn't step back when he's done, meeting her eyes. He studies her for a moment, like he's searching for something, before he moves away. "There."

There is so much Maka wants to say but instead she forces a grin, even though he can't see it. "Where to?"