It's the last day of January when Maka finds herself trembling at her desk, her fingers running through the pages of Pride and Prejudice until they find that one bunny-eared page. Like she'd done time and time again, she flipped to the creased page.
There, pressed between the pages, was the blue flower that Soul had tucked behind her ear back in October. It's flattened now, wilted at the edges, but still a bright blue despite the time that had passed.
She pressed her fingertips against the flower, letting her eyes flutter shut as she did. She remembers the night she'd pressed the flower- the same night she'd chased down Hero to make sure her guard was put on the guest list for her birthday- the same night it had finally been solidified for her that she truly liked Soul, despite all the lies.
It was real, she reminded herself. It was real and she had fallen. She'd loved.
The page Soul had once creased into her favorite book- the old red cloak that she knew didn't belong to her- they were all signs that Soul was real. He'd been there not long ago. This wasnt some figment of Maka's imagination.
When she opens her eyes, her vision is blurred with tears. A pitiful chuckle leaves her as she shakes her head, her fingers pressing harder into the flower. "I'm sorry," she murmured to no one but herself.
The thought of Soul raced in her mind- it'd been almost three months since they'd seen one another, and yet, the feelings she'd harbored for him only seemed to grow with the distance. Bitterly, Maka cursed under her breath as she leaned down to press her forehead against the pages of the book once loved.
She remembers the last night they'd seen one another, pressed together in a cot that was meant for one. It was cold in the medic room, the only light source being a candle that had almost burnt out fully.
Across the room sat Soul's previous guard, who looked worse for wear. "Prince Wesley says we should be okay to get going tomorrow morning when the sun rises," He'd said carefully. "We'd like to think we've overstayed your hospitality."
Maka hadn't looked over to Kid. Instead, her eyes focused on the ceiling above her, her hand tracing the bandages that littered Soul's arm.
"You were all welcomed to stay for as long as you wanted," Maka had replied bitterly, "I don't see why you are going so soon. You two haven't been in recovery for long."
Kid had only laughed. "The trip back to Cinder will take another week's time. Prince Wesley is insistent we are all present for the assassination if it hasnt already taken place, and since we're all in better shape, he thinks the trip will be fine."
Maka had almost made a comment asking why they needed Soul if Wes was completely capable of taking the role of King on his own, but the words had died on the tip of her tongue when she felt Soul's hand shift in her own.
Sitting up, she'd turned her head over to him; surprised to see that both of his eyes were wide open, blinking up at her.
"Hey," she'd greeted softly.
Beside her, Soul seemed to panic. He'd tried to sit up, his lips parting- but carefully and gingerly, Maka had pushed him back onto the mattress, shushing him. The bandages across his forehead and neck were still a color of white- better than the previous bandages that had soaked through the day before.
"Everything's okay," she'd reassured him, pressing a kiss between his knuckles. "I'm right here."
She remembered how she'd stayed long after both Soul and Kid fell back asleep- she remembered the way she'd clung to Soul's uninjured hand with muffled sobs leaving her- she'd remembered the way she'd lifted the back of his hand to her lips and they way she'd softly spoken, "Perfectly imperfect, right? Isn't that what you called us?"
She also, sadly, remembered the way she'd slipped from the medic room just before the sun could rise. She'd let those be the last words she'd spoken to Soul.
She'd refuse to see him off with Kid, Wes, and Crona.
She'd refused to let herself watch as Soul forced himself to try and speak. She didnt want to see it. She couldnt bare it. So she didnt.
She's pulled from her painful memories when there's a series of knocks at her door- loud and persistent- and then a shout.
"Maka!" Blackstar had called from the other side of her door cheerfully. "Maks!"
She doesn't lift her head from her desk, nor does she bother to answer. It's childish, she knows- and yet, she can't stop how she just doesn't seem to move.
A moment passes before Blackstar knocks again, this time more carefully. "Maka? Is everything okay?"
She doesn't answer the door that day, and sadly, she knows Blackstar just sits there, waiting patiently for her. It's not fair to Blackstar. He'd been her personal guard for three months now- longer than Soul had been hers- and yet, Maka couldn't help the disappointment that curled in her gut every time she opened the bedroom door in the morning.
Maka is woken hours later by a hand gripping her shoulder. She sits up so abruptly from her desk- the dream she'd been having is still clinging to the forefront of her brain.
She doesn't know why she calls out his name, but she does.
When she turns in her chair, it's only Blackstar standing there, smiling down at her. "No, sorry Maks, I'm not Soul."
With her sleep-deprived brain, Maka finds the most bitter words leaving her mouth with venom lacing them. She's pushing out of her chair, her arms trembling.
"You're right, you're not him, you'll never be him-"
She doesn't stop herself fast enough. The second the words leave her, she's recoiling on herself, watching as Blackstar's once cheery expression turns into something so sour and brutal she's sure the guard will hit her.
"I'm sorry," she says, the malice she once held leaving her immediately. "I'm so sorry, Blackstar-"
The guard steps toward her, raising an accusatory finger toward her. Maka finds herself standing still as Blackstar just laughs.
"You know what, I get it. Really, I do. I get you're hurting, I get you dont know how to cope, but for God's sake you're not the only person hurting." Blackstar's words burn. "You're not the only person who lost him, okay? You're not the only person who poured all their love into him and had to witness everything that happened that night, so stop acting like it. I get you're hurt, I get you miss him, because guess what, your highness, I miss him too!"
Blackstar's finger shakes as he drops his left hand, only to raise his opposite hand.
A crumpled letter is extended toward Maka.
Blackstar turns his head, shaking it.
"At least you know he'll be back for you."
To Her Highness, Princess Maka,
I hope this letter finds you in good health, your highness. I know in my last letter we'd promised to visit soon, but Soul's condition has seen no improvement thus far. He knows you don't want to see him like this, Maka. I don't believe he wants you to see him like this either.
I will inform you when we see improvement. It may be longer than anticipated- but, knowing Soul and how stubborn he is, he'll do whatever he must to be better.
I am excited to meet you once more under better conditions, Your highness. The moment Soul can hold a pen once more, please expect a letter.
With much love, King Wesley.
