Day 4: Ink

/

He was a coward. Despite the popularity of fax machines, he chose to use regular mail. He wouldn't know when she received it, and she wouldn't be able to respond immediately. Mail could be seen as more intimate, sure, but it also created some much-needed distance.

Soul sat next to a pile of discarded notes, all of them addressed to Maka, and each of them a failed attempt at finding out what went wrong.

None of the words were right. His desperation shone through too strongly in many of them, while others sounded too cold. The real problem, he suspected, was that he wasn't sure whether to reveal his true feelings - ending the friendship or ruining their lives or both - or try to mask them under "platonic" concern.

It had been days. It was high time to reconnect. And though he had wandered there out of sentiment, she had not met him at their usual practice place yesterday when she normally would.

Soul took a break to go downstairs and grab his own mail. It contained a letter from Maka.

He opened it right there at the mailbox, hands shaking.

Dear Soul,

I owe you an explanation.

When I left the other day, I wasn't angry at you. I was just afraid that something might happen between us that wasn't supposed to, mostly because of me and my feelings. I left right away to try to keep that from happening, and because I thought it would be best for both of us if we didn't keep talking anymore. In fact, I think we probably shouldn't talk for a while.

I'm sorry if I was rude or mean at all. If you don't understand what was going on, please at least believe that I'm just trying to make it easier on you and avoid getting you in trouble.

Thanks for being such a good friend. Hope to see you around eventually! Please take care.

Maka

Inspired - how dare she make decisions about his life without asking first? - Soul ran upstairs for his pen and paper and furiously wrote back. His handwriting was chicken scratch, but there were more important things to worry about than presentation.

Maka,

You made that decision alone? You don't have to protect me. We're adults. I can make my own decisions.

Remembering that he had done the same thing to her before - lying in bed contemplating her future, refusing her totally unsubtle advances despite wanting badly to accept them, clamming up the instant she wanted to discuss more serious matters, all because he was enforcing what he thought would be best for her - Soul relented a little in the composition of the rest of the letter.

You're probably right, though. Maybe it would be better if we never talked again. It would definitely be better for you, at least. But from now on, you make that decision for yourself, not for me.

Please take care, Maka.

Heart as heavy as the entire world, Soul dropped the letter in the mailbox. He abandoned all plans for the afternoon, collapsing into bed with his clothes on, and slept until his head ached and he didn't know what time it was.

On waking up, he left his apartment with the strange feeling that it might be worth a trip to the coffee shop in the dark. Maybe it was just because that was where they'd met. He suspected that he would spend some time drifting back and forth among places they had spent time, getting used to seeing them without her, because he'd definitely just put the kibosh on their friendship for now.

Was he selfless, or was he being an ass? Would it really be that bad to write her another letter or even go look for her? Probably, but he still wanted to do it.

"Hey, Soul," said a voice from the past - someone stood along the side of the coffee shop. When Soul looked up, he saw a familiar silhouette, one of the first people he'd met upon moving here. Masamune leaned against the wall with both arms crossed.

"Oh, hey," Soul answered, willing neither to ignore a former friend nor to get into a long conversation.

"How's it going?" asked the demon sword, pushing away from the wall and letting his arms dangle. "We haven't talked in a long time."

"No, it's been a while. What have you been up to?" Soul wanted this to end quickly so he could retreat into his corner with some kind of heavy caffeine dosage and spend a solitary night moping.

"Oh, you know, just the usual," Masamune answered, evasive as ever. Soul didn't really like his tone, and he couldn't see his expression that well by the streetlight, but there was something off about it. "But I did run into you pretty recently. I don't think you noticed me, though."

"Really," Soul said. "Sorry. I've been busy - must have missed you."

"Yeah, you did look busy. What's her name? Maka?"

Soul's blood froze. There was nothing particularly aggressive in Masamune's words, and yet... "That was probably her," he said. "She's weird. She likes to hang around here pretty often, so if you were here, you probably saw us getting coffee or something."

Masamune shook his head and grinned, his eyes glinting strangely by the streetlight. "Nope, not here. I saw you being wielded by her."