Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bing

His heart rate is low. It always has been, not that he ever needed to prove it. Strong, fit people had low resting heart rates, that's what the last nurse had said. She didn't change the damn alarm settings though.

Bing

Tsubaki had gotten to see the x-ray. Four vertebrae burst from him creating a new crater on the moon, a galaxy of white spots on black film. His left arm, a similar puzzle of free floating bones. Three days straight had been spent in a drug induced haze while the doctors filled him with wires, rods and hooks in a vain attempt to piece him back together. Tsubaki had been so disappointed in herself, it was a weapons job to protect their meister. He laughed it off, saying he always wanted to be a cyborg as a kid. The jokes always put a weak smile on her sleep deprived face. After Kim told him the injuries were outside of her abilities as a healer to fix, it had been harder to joke. Getting banged up was fine, it was the waiting that would drive him insane.

Bing

Three days to see if he could walk again. Every so often he pokes his thigh, able to feel it with his hands, but nothing else. The nerve block should have worn off by now. They warned him pain would follow any second, but all he could sense was a stiffness from being in bed so long. No weights or headphones to block out the baby crying next door. As far as the doctors were concerned, he was more child than war hero and that meant sharing a wall with a six month old in the throws of the flu. All hours of the night, the mother pops her head out asking for asinine shit. A shirt, another bottle, a better pillow. On and on and on.

"I think the monitor is keeping her awake, can we mute it?"

No.

The damn thing has to stay on.

Bing

He wasn't going to beg Tsubaki to sit here and be bored with him every day. Angela needed someone now, more than ever. In his absence, she'd been worried that like Mifune, he wasn't coming back either. As long as Tsubaki was at the apartment, he was just a phone call away. They talked for three hours today, calling them again would just be excessive. Besides, they wouldn't let Tsubaki stay the night even if she wanted to. As far as the paper work went, she wasn't family.

Soul was busy with death scythe orientation. Now that Asura had been dealt with, they could properly celebrate his graduation. Black Star had only talked with him through text, and it seemed like everything was being put off until Black Star had been discharged. A nice thought, but all they'd gotten were a bunch of 'maybes'. 

Maybe he could walk once he was fitted for a brace.

Maybe he'd be recovered in four weeks.

Maybe it would be permanent.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Bing

Maka blames herself. 

From the second his foot crumpled against solid ground, she'd been spiraling about how he got hurt protecting her. Apparently, she'd spent every waking moment at his bedside, preventing him from moving until he could be wired back together. He didn't remember a second of it, too hopped up on pain killers to even remember Asura had been dealt with.

After a few days of that, he would have been sick of it and want a break too. Now that he was stable, there was less of a risk he'd injure himself on accident. The sooner he could get back on his feet, the sooner Maka would feel better. It'd taken months for her to get over Soul's scar. He hates to think what she'd do if he couldn't walk again. He needs this to be temporary, for everyone's sake. Pity and somber looks had followed him his entire childhood and he was not about to drown in them now.

To his left, a book for every time Maka came to visit, left untouched since he woke up. In his excitement at every youtuber he loved updating, he'd chewed through all the videos during the day when the best reading light was available. He should have asked if she had anything to listen too, but the fact she was coming to see him at all with the parade around Soul's victory had been enough at the time. Now he was left with a florescent overhead light or the darkness broken up by colored lights from the monitor.

Bing

Tsubaki said this would happen.

Not this specifically, the sitting in the dark at two am with nothing to do. Not a word about there being a bag of piss hanging from his bed in his future. A banquet held in their honor at some fancy restaurant for 'all there efforts', while his portion was brought to him in a take-out box to be reheated in the microwave alone. People being busy dealing with change. Him unconscious while reporters had been the most interested in getting first hand reports. No one caring what he had to say on the matter when there was a new death god to pester about it instead.

All she had said was 'your spine', like that meant a damn thing while Asura was trying to kill everything in sight. Who gave a fuck about a couple of bones when people were dying? He made the right choice.  By the time he'd be out of here, people will have moved on to some other story and he could quietly get back to work on a death scythe. That was what was expected of a miester. Beating a god was reward enough, it was what he asked for.   

Bing

He asked for this.

Bing

He rips the pulse ox cord hard enough to unplug it from the overhead monitor. Instead of blissful silence, the room fills with digital screams that summon a clatter of footsteps from the hall. His door forever kept ajar since a 'minor' can't be 'alone', even though it means he can hear everything that happens at the desk. Every inane conversation about how 'difficult' he is when Tsubaki's not around and shit talking Sid for choosing work over sleeping next to him like he's five. 

"It's past midnight," he says the second there's a head in the room. "I want to get up."

There's a sigh. Even in the dark the nurse, not his nurse, hides a roll of her eyes behind a sweet smile.

"Three days from your surgery, you can try. That means noon tomorrow." They'd written it on his board like he'd give a damn. What difference did a few hours make when there was literally nothing else to do? "Did you loose your call light?"

"No."

"Is there anything else I can get you?"

An audience with a dead god.

Let him laugh in Lord Death's face one more time when asked to write a will. What once were guesses now concrete in just how little he'd had and how few would care if he died. The only people who did, forced to fight alongside him with little other choice. A completely preventable chain of events if Lord Death had just bothered to put Asura on the list in the first place instead of little kids like Angela or himself. Fifteen years of service and still Lord Death had doubted if he'd stay on the path of the warrior down to the skeleton's last breath.

An outlet of his anger.

Destroy the same white walls that trapped him day after day. Erase the rules meant to keep kids, little kids, from running wild in the halls. Let him scream somewhere it wouldn't frighten a little baby struggling to breath. There was nothing he could do but sit and glare at the shadows that climb his walls. Caught in the same looping dialogue that he had to stay in bed, like every set of scrubs was a NPC in a videogame that couldn't think for themselves.

An option to have a friend at bedside.

Whatever fucked up reasons he couldn't have someone other than a guardian suffer in the dark was beyond him. What did they think he was going to do while bed ridden, tangled in wires and tubes? He couldn't feel anything. His goodie two shoe best friends would just sit there and shoot the shit about music or meditation. They weren't going to snort coke off the side of the couch or whatever paranoid delusions the staff had cooked up. Without a call to action, he had no reason to bother them over the phone. There was nothing he could do other than complain he was stuck in bed for another day, a conversation everyone had heard more than once, including the vacant eyed nurse at the foot of his bed.

"No."

It's what she wants to here after all. She scuttles out of the room, leaving him furious, but exhausted in bed. The IV would alarm any second now. In twenty minutes, his nurse would finally show her face to check on him, hoping he'd finally fallen asleep so she wouldn't have to deal with him. They really needed to shut his door or shut up if they wanted him to be happy to see them. It just never, ever stopped.  Every hour spent sleeping during the day was 'concerning' every hour spent awake a night 'frustrating'. 

Bing

He wouldn't have to deal with this if just stayed on the moon.

Chapter Text

"People are so inconsiderate!" Maka paces at the front of his room, face red, a book rhythmically slapping into her waiting palm. There was no one person to hit, a list growing of people who thought now was the perfect time to ask Tsubaki if she wanted to switch partners. He had every intention of kicking their asses himself, in a fair duel of course, but he appreciates her ire. Watching her is like squeezing a stress ball, vindicating with each poorly articulated insult. "The teachers really should be telling underclassman to lay off. There are plenty of weapons without partners right now, they don't need to be cheating to get ahead by a few souls." Nevermind the fact her mother was notorious for doing just that. "And it's plain creepy the things they're saying."

"You weren't this angry when people were bugging Soul." He's correct of course. With each letter Soul received, Maka would grow quiet, scrambling for a topic to shift too. As protective as they were of Tsubaki, he did hope that she was angry on his behalf as well.

"He never showed me what they said." Maka stills, recounting every envelope sealed with a heart. With all the tittering, she assumes they were filled with rather innocent declarations of love, having heard the numerous things said about her papa when she was younger. It was hard to become a death scythe. Some spent their whole lives trying, so the fact Soul pulled it off so young was admirable. It showed how hard working he was, even if she'd been part of the reason they'd gone hunting at such a breakneck pace.

"Yeah," Black Star shrugs, "they went straight in the garbage." A good thing too. He didn't wish half of what Tsubaki was receiving on his worst enemy, let alone a friend. Tsubaki should stop reading them too. Even if it was considered 'rude', she had no business entertaining feelings she didn't want to respond to.

"Really?" The flushing of her cheeks softens to a gentle pink. In her hands, the book becomes a fidget toy, pages fluttering like her heart. "He didn't read them?"

"Yeah," he says, "not a one." 

Stop it.

It's a visceral, gut reaction he has no time to stop. There is no harm done in a small smile, or tucking her hair behind her ear. She has every right to be happy Soul didn't give other miesters a second thought, especially with how much she worries he'll be stationed in another country after graduation. Getting separated through circumstance or death has been her greatest fear for as long as Black Star can remember. It's natural she'd act this way.

And yet, his heart sinks. 

There is nothing to do in his hospital room other than talk, or watch tv. No true privacy, with so many open ears wandering outside the door. Things will happen without him for a while as he recovers. Things he has no say over. That was fine when it was grocery shopping and pumpkin carving, there would be a chance to do those all over again. This feels more like a match getting dropped on kindling. What exactly could be destroyed, he's not sure, but the thought of it aches so fiercely he's nauseous, even though he had a decent meal for once. Whatever train of thought he encouraged he wants to quash it, but she looks so stinking happy, and it's been far too long since someone was happy in front of him.

"Are you okay?" She asks.

"Yeah," but she draws near anyway, "I'm fine. There's no way in hell she'll partner with anyone else over a little vacation. Recovering from Mifune was way worse than this." It's a lie, and unlike the nurses, Maka's good a sniffing them out. 

Changing the subjects helps though, renewing Maka's anger so he doesn't have to see it anymore. Denial settling over him again, soothing the ache in his heart. He has no control what happens outside this room, but for a little bit longer, he pretends there's nothing to worry about.

Asking her to come closer only goes so far. Now that he's no longer on the brink of death, Maka always takes the chair instead of the edge of his bed. There's a distance she's put between them that hasn't been there before. When the roles were reversed, he'd had no qualms crawling all over her to draw on her face and joke about bringing bugs. It's not like that this time and he wonders if he let something stupid that offended her while his was disoriented. 

All he wants to do is wrap his arm around her waist and bury his face in her lap. The lights are too bright. He sleeps like shit alone. She's there and warm and her honey hair pools around her shoulders out of her old, tight pigtails. Something about all of it makes him sick, but he doesn't want her to leave. 

"And another thing-"

So he lets her rant about all the bullshit he's missing out on. A small comfort that the barrage of paperwork everyone else has to deal with fails to make it to his bedside. He asks which book to start reading, since she's buried his table in them, asks what everyone else has been up to. Anything to keep the subject off Soul, so he doesn't have to see it for a little longer. Doesn't have to think about what he's refusing to put into words. It's just something weird Maka's been doing lately.

It means nothing.

She'll be weird about something else eventually.

He just has to be patient.

"Tomorrow they said you can try walking," she says. Of course, when lost in thought, that's when she feels comfortable touching him. At least, that's what he thinks happened when he catches her hand retreating away from his calf. "Are you feeling up to it?"

"I was up for it last night," he says, "but they wouldn't let me." She dances around something too, he notices. The word never leaves her lips, even though her eyes drift to the still sheets across his lap. Sitting still this long used to be painful for him. "As soon as they let me up, I'll be out of here. It's just taking too long is all." 

She nods, her bottom lip brought between her teeth to worry off her chapstick as she holds her tongue. A thousand questions she saves for the nurses outside, only to be gently turned down. A thousand worries she keeps to herself.

It means nothing.

She'll be weird about something else eventually.

He just has to be patient.

Chapter Text

He's stuck.

After hours of lying to the nurses about what he could feel, they finally let him stand at bedside. A small task that he had no problem doing before they operated on him. All it took was sitting at the edge of the bed while they fitted the brace on. Letting some green horn nurse wrap a belt around his waist and play along until he got on his feet.

He can't find the ground. 

Memory tells him where to put his shoulders, his eyes tell him his feet are on the floor, but it's all wrong. The ground feels a few inches higher than what his eyes are expecting and slippery. Sort of like when he tried to walk across Soul's water bed. Constantly, he shifts his weight, compensating for his lack of feeling with his other sense. it's not enough. He knows it's not enough. While he can force his body to stand, he can't connect with the parts of his body that are needed to take a step forward. He's so unsteady, the nurse refuses to let go of the belt. 

It crosses his mind to sit down to start over. If he's the one to lift himself off the bed, maybe then he can find what core muscles are allowing him to stand. Only he's stuck. He doesn't know how to sit back down. The entire time the nurse is babbling he tries and fails to bend his knees. His next gut instinct is to reach around with his hands and fall back to the mattress with a bit of grace.

"Alright, deep breath. We can try again tomorrow."

This is why he wanted to do it himself. They're taking things too slow. One try is not all it takes to determine he can't do something. 

"Don't you have one of those old people roller things?" If he just had something to practice with alone, then he could try as many times as it took. But no, they're too worried he'll fall to let him try anything by himself. 

"One step at a time," the nurse says, "we got to get you comfortable with standing first."

"How can I do that if you won't let me try!?" All day he's been propped up by pillows and worried hands. He's sick of it. Sick of them not listening. Sick of sitting and waiting, poking and prodding, staring fruitlessly at the end of the bed. He'd take a wheelchair at this point if it meant being able to move by himself, but even then, his left arm is too fragile to operate the wheels. He's getting the same bullshit answers, and punches the closest thing to him.

The nurse gasps.

There's blood on his lap, his IV soaked and tangled up in the stupid fucking gait belt. The plastic had been driven into his knee, and he hadn't so much as flinched until she made a fuss about the mess. She calls for help, and they ignore his request to clean himself up, wasting even more time while he seethes.

It was an accident. Anyone with half a brain could see that. Yet, in the following hour his trash is traded out for brown paper bags. Dinner comes on a foam tray with plastics forks. In the doorway, someone sits, watching with disinterest as someone else comes in and asks a bunch of unrelated questions. 

Do you feel safe at home?

What home? The school? Yeah, it's a school dorm, of course it's fucking safe.

Have you felt so sad or depressed that it makes it hard to do the things you would like to do? 

They aren't allowing him to do anything, what the hell kind of question is that?

Have you been keeping to yourself more than usual?

Not by choice. People are busy, and he can't go anywhere. It's not like he's choosing to sit here all day.

In the past few weeks, have you been feeling more irritable than usual?

The fourth degree they were giving him was certainly pissing him off.

Have you had trouble falling asleep or found yourself waking up in the middle of the night or earlier than usual in the morning?

Yeah, so has the baby next door. There's a clear problem here, and it isn't him. They just need to let him out already. If he was at the apartment with Tsubaki, he wouldn't have to put up with half this bullshit. He could practice all the goofy PT shit and standing as many times as his body could take instead of wasting away in bed all day. What was the point of all this?

"It's a screening for depression," she says, but it hangs in the way that make him feel like there's an 'and' she's leaving off.

"Depression? I'm not fucking depressed, they're not letting me stand! It's just a basic injury-"

"You can't stand." She's calm, but there's a cold authority to it. For the first time Black Star looks up at her curled grey hair and weathered features. "You understand that, don't you? It's not that we're not allowing you to get up, it's that it's not safe. You will fall. It's not 'just' a broken bone you can walk off, the nerves in your spine were damaged." 

"I want to talk to Nygus." She's a nurse, she could explain to them why they were wrong better than he could. Better yet, she could bring in Kim and see if Kim could take another crack at everything now that it was wired in place. There had to be something they could do that wasn't treating him like a beta fish. 

"We'll give her a call." 

No one answers. Of course, with class in session, she couldn't drop everything. There was no emergency going on, just the same bullshit he's been dealing with the last couple of days. The brace was supposed to fix that. At minimum, he should have been able to use the bathroom by himself by now.

He's not depressed, he's just reasonably angry about his circumstances. Left in a room, staring up at the ceiling, now with a baby sitter bored out of their skull. 'Danger to himself', what horse shit, he's never been a danger to anyone other than kishin-eggs, and werewolves. As in, the cool shit he was raised from the cradle to do. He bounced back from the Uncanny Sword faster than this, he'd bounce back from this too. It was just because people who didn't get the DWMA or what they did were trying to tell him what to do, that he was getting stupid answers.

He's not depressed.

He's not.

He's not.

He's not.

Chapter Text

Nygus agrees with the nurses, much to Black Star's dismay. She's very careful to phrase it in a way that doesn't single him out, but it amounts to the same thing. He can't walk. He'll be stuck not walking, not standing, for months and until feeling comes back to his hips it's not a good idea to ditch the catheter. She reminds him of the mess and he finally drops the idea, for now. Her and Tsubaki make three, with the sitter politely ignoring them in the corner. 

"Alright, let's give this a shot." That's the other small blessing, with Nygus here he can train, somewhat. It's not the usual sparring and sword forms, but he can still practice resonating to do something new. Tsubaki takes his hand for moral support and he closes his eyes.

The body is full of dark, underwater places. Thin crevices between skin and muscle and bone that act as a cushion for all its moving parts to gel together seamlessly. He focuses on that idea, a network of unseen shadows, and resonates with Tsubaki for the first time in weeks. With no sensation below his waist, there's nothing to fight with, and he surrenders control of his body to his partner.

Tsubaki stifles a her disgust behind a tight grimace. It's like putting on a glove and she can see the skin pull in unnatural directions. He needs this to work, she knows that, and pushes through the discomfort until there's nothing left to fill. Slowly, ever so slightly, she shifts his left leg.

It works.

The blankets pull and Black Star snaps his eyes open. He resists the instinct to push forward on his own. Heart racing, ears ringing, it's working. It's actually working. He lets Tsubaki take all the time she needs to get used to the added weight and watches for the first time in days, as his legs move to dangle over the side of the bed. 

"That's good," Nygus says. "I know you want to push further, but we don't want Tsubaki accidently hurting you. For the moment, focus on just lifting and lowering the ankles. Nothing weight bearing."

Each movement is jerky, as numb muscles spasmed wildly from an unexpected surge of force. His knees move, but not his feet, reminding him of a child shaking a doll. It's an improvement. He knows he should be happy, it's working after all, Tsubaki just needs more practice. If they kept up with training, he could go back to mission work with minimal hiccups. That hope adds a warble to Tsubaki's voice that hasn't been there before. Just yesterday she'd been talking non-stop about how he didn't need to walk to be a miester and such, now there was one less variable up in the air. He could feel something close to his shin bone too, just pressure, but it was something. When he brings that up Nygus is quick to praise him like he did anything other than sit around all week.

"An hour every day will be a good start," Nygus says. "The range of motion exercises will help you keep up your strength. It'll be easier to do at home too." Somewhere out in the halls were doctors trying to figure out how quickly they could get him out. Him doing better at home than here was the one thing he could agree with them on. "I'll see if there's anything else we can do today." The more care family did, the less he fought with the nurses. He could do more than they were letting him, and only Nygus had the power to make that abundantly clear. She steps out, letting the door fall as closed as it ever gets.

"Black Star..." Tsubaki can feel the disappointment radiating through his soul. It's not a perfect solution, and for all his carelessness, it did bother him when he was unable to do things well. Each spasm of his leg has him grip the sheets, even though he can't feel any pain. It doesn't look like when he used to swing his leg on his own. It's obvious something is puppeting him, and that makes him angry. "I'll get the hang of it, this is just our first try. It took weeks to master the Uncanny Sword's draining, this is just a new thing we have to learn."

"She's going to notice."

What had he been thinking? He knew Tsubaki couldn't resonate with him twenty-four seven, he certainly didn't want her help going to the bathroom or showering. Some part of him thought this would be enough to mask it in front of the others. That he could go on missions like he used to and pretend nothing was wrong. If this was the best he could do, day after day of failing to stand on fawn like legs, that was it. Maka would never look at him the same way again.

"She's gonna fucking kill herself when she finds out." He regrets saying it the moment his sitter pops up his head to see if there's something in Black Star's hands. It takes Tsubaki laughing to call off the mild alarm, and keep the door closed. "She couldn't look Soul in the eye for months after that little scar." How the hell was he was going to hide this? He promised it was nothing serious. It was getting harder to breath, a high pitched ringing in his ears. She wouldn't be able to look at him without blaming herself. She wouldn't be able to look at him.

"Black Star!" She rarely sees the stars in his eyes outside of combat. Pinpoint, and unfocused, it takes calling his name three times before he looks at her and the mumbling to stop. "It's just a new kind of training technique, like... like balancing while blindfolded. Very experimental, Stein's still working out the kinks as we speak." It's a hollow lie, one no one would believe upon closer examination, but he needs a script to fall back on. She wishes they could actually be alone. The rims of his eyes are raw and misty, but anything he might say is being bottled up under anger now that denial is running thin. She strokes the bandage over his knee. "As soon as we're home, we'll stop by the training ground and see how many ranged techniques we can work on, stealth too. Kilik says there's a bunch of training dummies with our names on it."

"Yeah, only way he could beat us," Black Star jokes, but his heart isn't in it. His thoughts keep trying to scatter to something else, even though he knows in an hour or so there'll be plenty of time to do nothing but think. Tsubaki's trying to make him feel better and working double time on strategies. Everyone else talks about how he needs to take it easy, so he takes solace in the fact he will have an accomplice or two on the outside. "Do I want to know what everyone's saying?"

"Just that they're surprised you haven't killed anyone yet," Tsubaki smiles. Again, they have to assuage the sitter it was purely satirical. "The biggest debate is over whether you want a party or not." 

A make-up party, for all the accolades he missed out on while in traction. Being the center of attention certainly was appealing, but he's less than enthusiastic about the reasons they feel the need to do so. Everyone was just trying to be nice, but it felt different some how. Like being offered a consolation prize for the incredible act of waking up. That used to be the dream. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Depends on the party," he says. 

"How does celebrating the most hits on Asura sound?" Tsubaki asks.

"Seriously!?"

"Maka rolled back the security tapes from the airship," Tsubaki grins wider, "she thought you'd enjoy rubbing it in Kid's face personally."

"Obviously!" He's saved Kid's ass more times than he can count, but as the acting Lord Death, couldn't find time to come visit the past few days. Something to do with other unfinished business Shinigami-sama had left behind, including Excalibur's presence around the school. "Kid owes me a halo after all that. Please tell me there's like a combo counter on screen or something."

"I'll see what we can do."

It's nice to have good news to talk about for once, as mundane as how many punches he landed is. There was just something about sitting up and eating that doesn't feel like the momentous achievements all the staff wants him to brag about. Kicking a gods ass on the other hand, that's something he'll always be excited about.

Chapter Text

At long last, he has an official discharge date to tell people. It makes texting a crowd of loose contacts feel less like pestering and more like an official announcement. He'll be home tomorrow, last chance to gawk at him in ugly hospital robes. The flood of relief that comes from each goofy meme and plan to hang out scrubs away at his fatigue. Granted, he's left a few key details out.

Home does not equal better.

Kim's given the x-rays a look and only feels comfortable attempting to heal his arm after weeks of casting. Disheartening, but he'll take any extra days he can get at this point. Until then he's got one hand to work with and instructions to continue bedrest. Unless Tsubaki's there to help him, he can't attempt moving or going anywhere. Two times a week, a stranger will be in their home to make sure he's following orders and one fall will land his ass back in the hospital. So he's promised every white coat and set of scrubs he'll take things slow through a chimp-like grin. Jury was still out on whether anyone buys his false promises.

So, for his own sanity, he keeps that stuff on a need to know basis. That circle encompassing Nygus, Tsubaki and Maka. The later more due to her nosiness than anything else. She was just too good at picking up on stuff, embarrassing stuff he didn't even like talking with Tsubaki about. 

"It's gone!"

It being the catheter.

"Maka," he talks over her excited ramblings, "Maka please," he's glad he won't need help going to the bathroom too but she does not need to say it out loud, "Maka!"

"So the feeling's coming back?"

"Yes." It's not completely a lie. Pins and needles run inside his thighs, but he's not keen on telling her where sensation's returned the most. She, like Angela, has a habit of prodding to make sure and there's still a staff member watching him twenty four seven. As if she can read his mind, she presses into the top of his thigh. "Yeah, I can feel that." Just that there's something pressing into his muscle. His skin is still numb to the world and under the blanket is cold to the touch. It is a change from before though, and she squeezes near his knee with all her might. "How many times do I have to say yes before you'll believe me?"

"Sorry," she retracts her hand and this sense of emptiness returns. Was he too harsh? Should he had said nothing or would that have worried her more? He just wants her to smile again, at him, for something he did. That's been so hard to do while locked away. "Hey, um, it's okay if you don't know the answer, but..." She trails off, second guessing if she should have said anything at all. "Do you... Is there a way to know if I guy likes you? Like, likes you likes you."

His heart skips a beat.

Did she know?

Know what, exactly, is his next thought. What was there to know? As far as he could tell no one's talked about having a crush on her or anything. That could have changed with minor celebrity status, he spent a fair share of time joking about the billions of girls he'd have to keep back with a stick. For now, he speculates his fan mail has been shoved in his locker where people think he'll find it. The most annoying part about being hospitalized is he's supposed to be hidden. An injured miester is a prime target of kishin eggs after all. 

"I don't know, buys you stuff?" Black Star shrugs. "Wants to talk to you? Really depends on if you know them already."

"Right," Maka blushes, "I guess if you've been friends for a while, those sorts of things happen already. It's nothing special." It's a war she's been fighting all on her own, tantamount to picking petals off a daisy. Romantic? Platonic? Partner or partner? The only way to know for sure was asking, but guessing wrong would lead to embarrassment. "I just, I wish I could let it go, y'know? Now that there's nothing to distract myself with, it's just there and every time I tell myself it'll go away he'll do something that makes me wonder 'what if'. It's stupid, I'm probably getting worked up for no reason." The only people she'd seen take an interest in other girls were Black Star and Ox, neither of whom were particularly subtle. 

"Hold up," Black Star grabs her wrist before she can start pacing, "you have notoriously despised anything to do with dating. There's not a dude in the entire school that hasn't seen your old man go crazy mode. It's not stupid to think someone might be too nervous to say anything." That said, if someone was that scared to do anything, they didn't deserve her. Maka Albarn would be an intimidating force her entire life. He couldn't imagine her happy with someone that cowered every time she was went to debate, just like he couldn't handle people that ran away from a sparring match. It just wasn't in her nature.

"Yeah?" It's a breathtaking smile, soft and full of hope. "Yeah! Papa's a lot to deal with. He's been especially protective lately. I don't know where he got the idea I was acting recklessly."

"I know right, you go up to save the world one time and suddenly people think you don't know what you're talking about. Everyone's been super weird lately." Thank god it's not just him getting treated with the kid gloves. He can only imagine how many adults were trying to micromanage Kid right now. It was a nightmare all around. "We almost died, almost. That's a pretty good streak of not dying. We're basically immortal."

"Basically." She shakes her head, even though her smile is a mile wide. "Right, we've faced way scarier things, there's no reason to be so nervous about whether someone likes me. I just, I don't know, I'd feel better saying something if I knew it wouldn't be a burden I guess? We all have a lot going on, so it'd be like, one more thing to deal with if it's just all in my head."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, like, no one wants to tell someone no." Her shoulders sag, each raw cuticle catching her attention. So many flaws, so many reasons to turn her away. She's heard plenty of them before. Too short, too bossy, too boring, it made her angry to hear then, but now it would hurt. It would hurt to hear nothing has changed, even though for her, she's plagued by butterflies. "Once it's all out in the open, there's no going back. It's just there, in the room with you. It's not even the rejection I'm scared of, it's getting treated differently."

"Anyone that treats you different over a rejection is stupid, I'm serious!" Who wouldn't want to be friends with her? She was insanely strong, and smart, and cared way more about other people than herself. "They should feel lucky that you care this much about their feelings."

"I guess." Certainty, that's what she needed. "I'd feel better if I knew for sure I wasn't making a mistake." There was only one person who could tell her that. "Do you think Soul likes me?"

His mind goes blank.

There's a blissful second, where the color of her cheeks brings out the gold in her hair. A smile that would bring a stone giant to tears. Her voice is so soft and fragile, he finally understands why her soul has wings. 

And then what she says worms into his brain.

Does.

Soul.

Like her?

He can't. A vice like grip on his heart threatens to take hold when Black Star even entertains picturing it. Soul can't like Maka. He'd be crazy not to, but he can't. Black Star would laugh in the face of anyone who thought they did like her, they'd barely know her, she didn't let anyone close enough to know her. He'd kick the ass of anyone stupid enough to think they did, but it's her partner she's asking about. Soul's his best friend. Black Star couldn't go picking fights with him over nothing like that, so Soul's not allowed to like her. He can't not like after everything, but Black Star can't accept he would. It slams his chest under a hydraulic press; Soul, her, together.

"I don't know." The second he says it, he knows that's not the end of it. Only one question naturally follows, and he doesn't want to open that can of worms. Can't fathom any way he could breach the topic without a tone that would give away how much he doesn't want to know the answer to that question.

"Could you ask him?" 

"That'd be weird." 

"Right," she laughs it off, "right, he'd know I asked you to talk to him. It'd defeat the purpose of asking before asking." She thinks a bit more, treating the whole thing like a puzzle and not like the ticking time bomb she's dropped in his lap. "But, I mean, guys talk about the girls they like. That's not weird. Even if you asked him if he liked anybody, that'd be helpful."

"I don't like anybody." The words are cotton in his mouth. Wrong, this is all wrong. He could say something else, anything else, but it's the only thing he can think of that would get her to drop it. The window to brush it off as a joke and say something else was closing. "It'd be weird." He insists, hoping at long last she'll drop it.

"Right, because you like everybody." She tries to cut the tension, but he can't bring himself to laugh. He wants her to say something else, talk about someone else, but his brain is avoiding thinking about too many things to bring up something himself. "You okay?" she asks.

"Of course." Come on, be smart for once. She'll start panicking if she suspects she did something wrong. Not that there's anything wrong with her saying she's got a crush on someone.

It just hurts like a bitch.

Then again everything hurts. Every little thing he's missed out on hurts. It's probably a straw thing, too many little things, not enough camel. Or whatever the hell Tsubaki said. It's not really that big of a deal. He's just over reacting.

"You could have told me I was sitting on you!" She gets up, noticing for the first time there were more than just pillows on the part of the bed she'd been sitting on.

"It's fine." He didn't want her to move. It was preferable to her pacing around like a bumble bee out of reach. Pressure was all he could feel, and he longed for it over her absence.  

"We really need to get you out of here." The look he hates is back. She feels bad, even though she's done nothing wrong. He repeats that to himself over and over to quiet the simmering bile in his throat. Nothing is wrong, it's just a few questions. There's nothing but time for the mind to wander; his fixating on how the hell to pretend like nothing will change and hers was on what new thing was next. He just can't bring himself to help her with this, not this time.

Chapter Text

They didn't factor in the stairs.

All logic and planning went out the window at the mention of getting to go home. It's well worth it to see Angela rush out to meet the car. Any of her fears he disappeared on her finally quashed, at least for the meantime.

"Spikey, look!" She crawls up into the passenger seat to show him a clumsily folded paper crane. "Tsubaki showed me. I made bunches." There's no way she's reached a thousand in the few short days he's been away, it's the thought that counts.

"Your offering has been accepted." He takes the bird and holds it up toward the roof of the car.

"Hey, that's mine!" 

With a grimace reminds her, she still can't really crawl all over him, only able to get a word in edgewise once the paper bird is back in her hands. Outside, Tsubaki's on the phone with Blair to see how soon she'll be able to help them out. He's more than willing to brute force it up the stairs with puppet mode and a death grip on the railing, but Tsubaki doesn't want to scare Angela. 

It's fine.

He reminds himself of that every three minutes of waiting or so that it's fine, it's better than the hospital. He'll be stuck in the apartment for god knows how long, but it's better than the hospital. The only scrap of outside he'll be able to reach is the narrow balcony, but it's better than the hospital. It's closer, more people will want to visit, and he'll have access to more things. Angela, for all her fidgeting will be able to do stuff like grab things from the fridge and distract the hell out of him. All things considered, it's good to be home.

The longer Tsubaki's on the phone, the more tempting it is to just drag himself up the stairs himself. Just a few feet more and he can stop guarding as much. He'll have a chance to be alone in a room with the door closed. He's so sick of putting on a performance for everyone around him. 

"Hey, Angie," he holds a finger to his lips, "how good has that levitation spell of yours gotten?"

"She's on her way," Tsubaki says, leaning against the passenger door, staring down from on high at the conspirators in the front seat. "I'm sorry, I should have planned this better."

"It's not your fault Tsu." They both forgot in their haste to escape white walls and medical drips. It's certainly not her fault that he's been stir crazy for days and anxious for a descent night's sleep. 

Once Blair's there, the last hitch in his shoulders drops. She summons one of her goofy pumpkins and carries him up the stairs without anyone needing to hold him. All options considered, it's likely the least embarrassing way for him to get upstairs, but he resolves himself to make up some cool ninja bullshit to tell anyone who asks. 

Inside, the couch welcomes him. His own tv, his own clothes, Angela free to run around without getting dirty looks from an adult. It's good to be home. The second he smells day old tea leaves in the kitchen, he grows tired. Not the irritated, over stimulated sort of tired, but the sort that promises real sleep after days of dozing in and out of consciousness to the sound of an alarm. 

He lets Angela queue up the tv, the droning of a familiar voice soundtracking new, idle conversation as Blair gets updates on the 'progress' that's been made. He'll never get why they make such a big deal about ordinary things, but it's good to see people happy. Tsubaki divvies out some cake, which he eats almost immediately. 

He's going to give them something to talk about. Something more exciting then the pins and needles that pricked at his sits bones. A new weapon technique, or building up his reps with weights again, or some creative junk. Who knew, as long as they talked about something other than his arm and legs, he'll be happy at this point. The bar was at rock bottom. Still, settling in the couch with Angela eager to show him things he's already watched, it feels like he's actually resting for once. 

Chapter Text

Never in a milion years would Black Star have called one dollar, 3 in 1 ocean spray body wash a luxury, but here he was relishing ever sudsy drop. Hot water pelted his skin and drummed against the plastic on his cast, rinsing off the last of the hospital off him. With eyes closed, he could drown out the world. Every ache and pain numbing under the showerhead. Truly alone for the first time in days.

Why?

Of all things, why did it have to be the one thing he hadn't wanted to hear? 

Every.

Damn.

Time.

Had he made some Faustian bargain in the Book of Eibon? Got his wish to surpass the gods just for a monkey's paw to curl its last dreadful finger. Lucky to survive, his whole damn life, he's 'lucky' to survive. Never mind the fact he fought tooth and nail to get a scrap of recognition, hauled his ass to the moon and stars with his own two hands. He took everything the god of madness could give and threw it right back in the god's face. Saw a glimmer of praise from the person he was least expecting it and life just moved on.

There was no grand conclusion. Maka spends her days dissatisfied that Chrona's been left to rot in space, connected and yet unreachable to all of humanity. Kid fights an uphill battle acting as the first Shinigami to not have a death scythe ready in hand. Tsubaki has two souls to her name, one powerful enough for her to rival a death scythe, but accepting an honorary status on the merit of two souls feels like cheating. Like they don't think he'll be able to find ninety seven more souls to round out her numbers. The last thing he wants is Tsubaki getting pitied for sticking beside him, especially with rumors of witches being pulled from the list in droves. Soul Eater Evans will be the last death scythe to be made with a witches soul, for some, that means he his the last death scythe. To many of their collogues, Tsubaki will never be a true death scythe.

She hasn't brought that up to him, but he feels it anytime Soul's promotion is mentioned. By obligation and the years they shared, she's happy for him. She also side steps any questions about what she's going to do next. After all, Black Star's wading through a sea of 'maybes' as to what making breakfast will look like in his future, let alone kishin egg hunting.

They focus on Angela and her potential as an official transfer student from the magical world, the first to not have to hide her witchiness in order to attend.  He's so proud of her. Her little homework folder is full of glowing remarks about her stealth and familiarity around swords. School is an exciting new game to her, and she has the potential to be a sword meister of some kind. There are so many swords that attend the DWMA she should have no problem finding a partner when the time comes, except...

She doesn't have any friends at school. People give her lots of attention, she'll tell him with this with a hollow smile, but she doesn't know their names. People seem really intent to give her things with the old Lord Death on them, and saying Shinigami-sama had a plan for her. It's hauntingly familiar, and Black Star knows what the teachers are going to tell him. That unless Angela says something when it happens, there's nothing they can do. His only comfort is in knowing Angela does not listen to anyone other than herself, and in cases like that, it's a powerful tool. It served him well for many years.

The water cools. He turns off the shower, water streaming down the plastic shower chair Tsubaki had bought. He's begun to loath white plastic in all its iterations, but it's a small discomfort compared to his other options. Here, he can dry himself off, use his years of training get himself into the locked wheelchair and mostly dressed. Socks are the biggest challenge, but they were optional at best.

Help is just a text away, but he sits, the counter up to his chest, and his reflection cut off at the neck. He's been dancing around questions he doesn't want to answer; about plans and feelings and other things he really doesn't have an answer for. The honest truth being he didn't think he'd get this far. No one did, and there was no celebration for it. There was no princess to rescue from her castle. Just life in all it's mundane mediocrity. 

Angela wants him to praise her about school, so he'll do that for her louder than anyone else.

Tsubaki wants to keep training, even though they've been given a golden ticket to cut the line, and he'll ignore the death grip of fatigue to start as soon as possible.

Maka wants him to ask one little question, and he can't bring himself to do it. 

There has to be a reason just thinking about it makes him want to sit in the bathroom in silence rather than risk someone asking him about it. He's done impossible tasks before, has his work cut out for him when it comes to physical therapy and relearning combat techniques from scratch. What Maka wants from him could be as easy as a text, but it makes him so tired to think about. Like if he does nothing long enough, she'll change her mind and ask something else of him. Something other than being a mediatory between her and a third party. Something only he can do. Why couldn't she have asked him to buy her something or go somewhere with her instead? It didn't fog over his brain nearly as much as reaching out to Soul over something she could ask herself. Not that he wants her to do that either.

Tsubaki lets him know the pizza's arrived and he welcomes the distraction. The early stages of a headache threatening to take hold. Real food and sleeping in his own bed will chase away this gross feeling, he just knows it. If nothing else, it will keep people from asking him about it. For now, everything is fine.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

At night Black Star dreams of days since passed in disjointed, fictive narratives. Almost real memories of going on missions with Kilik mashed up with the agonizing days of Ox weeping about Kim giving him the cold shoulder. The blistering summer wondering if they can find Chrona, just for the moon to grin back in broad daylight. Since Asura's defeat, the moon and sun have lost their friendly faces, blank slates for the new gods to draw upon. Their absence clues Black Star in, and he lets himself get pulled by the tides, enjoying the freedom of movement that comes with dreaming. His subconscious yet still unfamiliar with the new reality.

He's back on the airship, able to see now how grueling those first hours had been, when the efforts to numb his pain had impaired his mind as well. Information poured in and out like water, and Tsubaki prevents people from restraining him for his own safety. It takes a great deal of patience on her part, answering the same questions over and over.

We defeated Asura.

Yes, Kid and Maka are fine.

Yes, you're the only one severely injured.

I won't tell them what you said.

Over and over a loop that went hours long as he came in and out of consciousness, not knowing what was a dream and what was reality. All he knows is something happened, and something worse could happen if the battle's ragging on without him. He really, seriously, needs to do something for Tsubaki once he can sneak off on his own again. She deserves something for the hell he put her through. 

Eventually, Tsubaki caves, and gets the one thing he's asked for the most. Maka peaks her head in, eyes red rimmed from crying while he was swarmed by doctors. Her shoulder's taped and bandaged to hell and back, but she's alive in a fuzzy halo of light. Without a single filter to rely on, he waves her over so she's close enough he can see every dimly lit facet of her face. 

He's impulsive, insisting she sits on the bed with him, still unable to piece together why he can't or shouldn't get up (the rules bleed together into one large annoyance). She puts up with him babbling nonsenses at her for a bit, but when he goes to wipe her face, she stops him and gently holds his arm down. Warm, rough from years of hard work, yet so delicate against his scarred up skin. He can't remember the last time she's touched him without gloves on. Granted, he can't remember much of anything at the moment. All he can hold onto is that she's here, and he wants to be closer. Since he finds it difficult to move, she should come down to his level. On the bed, no on top of him, close enough he can get rid of her elastics and get to see her hair down again, tangled though it may be. She's too afraid to hurt him to put up a real fight, though she objects staunchly to his willingness to treat himself like a bed.

It's not his fault the med bay only has twin cots.

This way, her heart beat can hammer against his hand. Warm breath dances across his chest. He's giddy until she pushes herself up, some lecture on the tip of her tongue. In a frantic jumble of loose associations: bed, her, a warmth in his chest, he kisses her. It's clumsy. Poorly placed and half tongue, his tongue, it hardly feels romantic even if she cups his cheek.  She's careful to pull away and quick to blame the drugs for his actions. 

The dream logic falters, as he realizes Maka's never brought up a kiss. Did it really happen or was this something else? A mind polluted with teen drama and avoidant thoughts feeding him a soup of half formed ideas. 

She did cry on his chest.

She did beg him to never get hurt again. A stupid promise she loves to remind him he agreed to.

He did brag to Tsubaki after Maka resigned herself to staying on the bed with him that he could feel breasts pressed against him. A few times actually. Another thing Maka never talks about, but Tsubaki did warn him happened. The choices were that or fight with him about staying in bed, so no one thought anything of it.

No one, not Tsubaki, not Maka, not Soul.

Everyone chalks it up to someone high off their ass saying the first thing that comes to mind. Which is true. However, there were dozens of things that could have been on his mind other than Maka and the battle that came before. There was Angela to worry about, the people sealed in the moon, his sleep deprived weapon partner. Him liking Maka is treated like a joke. 

He wakes to a cold, dark room. Tsubaki's asleep in the futon next to him. His home unfamiliar in the first few blinks, until he orients to time and place. It's been weeks since the battle. Long, grueling days of practicing standing and watching Angela do homework from various spots in the apartment. The thing that's missing clearer than ever now.

His entire life he's fought an uphill battle to be taken seriously. The things he wants may be practically out of reach, but he's no fool for wanting, for trying. Since returning from the moon, what little progress he's made feels lost. He can regain warrior status, he knows this, the path to do so painstakingly laid out by Tsubaki and his teachers. His wavelength is stronger than ever, working double time as he goes through the revolving door of therapies to relearn to stand with and without Tsubaki's aid. There's plan As, Bs, and Cs, for how to handle each weapon form. There's just one thing he doesn't know how to overcome.

Soul potentially liking Maka is a question that requires council. She debates with herself like a philosopher or medieval poet as to whether she should say something or let it be. It's been weeks and she's letting the possibility hang in the air for as long as possible. Be it fear or indecision, she's torturing herself over it.

Black Star potentially liking Maka is a joke quickly forgotten.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Winter clings to the desert against the sun's wishes. Early mornings on the practice field always leave Black Star's hands raw from the arid cold, even with warm rays fighting against the wind. Still, it's the best time to practice without an audience, something Black Star's not used to. It is preferable. The gait belt is humiliating, but necessary with each uncertain step. Though in many ways, Black Star feels like a dog let out on a leash for a walk.

Tsubaki's grown more confident with the puppet form. She doesn't miss the ground like he does, but she is painfully slow, slower than she needs to be. It's not like she can hurt him more than he already is, still mastering standing with assistance. His current record being a whole ten seconds. With shadows pulsing through his legs, he's able to take steps.

Slow.

Calculated.

Steps.

"Excellent work," Nygus is quick to praise. "Let's take a break."

"No." They may have been at it for a full minute, but they only made it six inches farther than last week. He doesn't care there's sweat on his brow in the dead of winter, or that his thigh spasms non-stop, he can't feel it. He can keep going. 

Only it's two against one, and Tsubaki controls his legs. His heart stops when he goes to move forward, only for Tsubaki to hold him still. It's not like she's never discouraged him from pushing himself before, but she's never had the power to force him to stop. At least, not like this. 

He pushes again, Nygus and Tsubaki both shouting something. Only this time he feels heavy, his knees sink to the ground. He can't get away from her with her inside him like a parasite. 

"Black Star!" 

He panics, and does only thing he can do. Electricity sparks at the tips of his fingers and he aims it squarely at his chest. He's never tried to make a soul menenace implode on itself before, but it couldn't be that different from firing it at someone else. It goes off like a gunshot and he coughs up blood, but it works. Tsubaki is at his side instead of holding him hostage and he drags himself away from her as best he can.

"Let me help you," she says, but he pulls away from her grasp. She is stunned and hurt while he glares at the ground. His chair isn't that far. He'd sooner crawl than accept either of their hands, with a fire in his eyes that dares either of them to take a step forward and see what happens.

"I think that's enough for today," Nygus says.

With dirt on his shins, he's back in his chair, storming off as best as he can in a bumble bee pattern off the practice grounds. The DWMA is nothing but stairs, and the few ramps available are hidden and winding. Tsubaki will be able to catch up to him in no time, and that pisses him off more. He has so little control over his life, she knows that, but to think she'd listen to an instructor over him. It's his body they're  talking about. The least she could do was say something first, but no. Once again, he's some impudent child that doesn't know what he's talking about. The older he gets, the less they can hold it against him. But when he tries to picture what older looks like, and he sees himself in the same situation, a white hot rage winks into numbness. 

He's tired, so tired, of choking on bitter pills. 

Chapter Text

"Are you sure you don't want to switch partners?" Sid's question hits Tsubaki like a ton of bricks.

Sid knows Black Star the best, or he used to at least. She was hoping for more strategies on how to proceed after the incident on the practice field. She's tried apologizing, her first go to when they disagree, but it's not working. A reserved it's not your fault does not fix the problem. The apartment is quiet and tense when they're both present. It's so unlike Black Star's usual way of monologuing, that she fears even he doesn't have an idea on how to move forward. 

"I couldn't," she says. "We both knew going to fight Asura was a risk. It wouldn't be fair." Sid's office feels so small, hidden among a dozen cubicles. Grey, without any decorations to distract her from his reaction. 

"The thing is," his arms cross to frame the tomb on his shirt, "recovery's going to take a lot longer than we initially hoped."

"But he's standing!" Almost by himself, he tries the most in the kitchen, where he has a variety of surfaces to catch him. "In a few more weeks, Kim is going to try again, and then he'll have both arms-"

"Nygus thinks it'll take two years," Sid says, "and that's if he cooperates with the monotony of PT, which you and I both know is unlikely." Two years is a long time to ask anyone to wait and hope for the best. "Any reinjury will set him back farther and he's already trying to push himself more than his body can take. You saw what happened."

There is so much fight in him, that each muscle has a mind of its own. His inability to relax, ever, keeping him from letting Tsubaki have total control. If it was a matter of trust, she'd understand, but he does trust her. He just can't surrender control, like a light switch stuck in an on position after the bulb burns out. It's heartbreaking and she doesn't like telling him he can't do things, especially with him trying his hardest. 

"That's no reason to find a new partner." There was no such thing as a lost cause, not for her brother then and not now. They just had to keep trying.

"You have so much potential-"

"I did what I needed to do as a DWMA student," she says, "there's no point in rushing things. If it takes two years, it takes two years, and if not..." She bites her lip. "Did either of you tell him this?"

"He's a smart kid," Sid says, "I'm sure he knows."

Black Star was fairly dense when it came to predicting what people would think, but he was observant. He's particularly skilled at seeking his name in whispers and sideways glances. If they had talked about him while he was on campus, there's a good chance he heard what they were saying: that Tsubaki's wasting her time, that he's doomed to create his own setbacks. All of it would set him even more on edge. It doesn't explain why he's mad at her.

She bids Sid goodbye, walking out into a cloudless, cold day. It's hard to spend a day by herself without feeling guilty. Getting advice from Sid was supposed to help with that and instead she finds herself more frustrated than before. 

Something is wrong, not in the recovering from a shitty situation manner. She's seen what Black Star is like when not at a hundred percent. He was fuming then to, but he never took it out on her. That's something none of their friends or family seem to understand. He's never refused her help before, or gave her the silent treatment like this. The fact he rarely talks about what is bothering him is the obstacle here, not Black Star being upset. 

It's not just her, Soul had told her, he's mad at a lot of people and comparing himself to Kid again. Only, Tsubaki hasn't heard a single sour word out of Black Star's mouth about the death god, other than his absence. Not that anyone blames Kid, the entire world rests on his shoulders now. No one envies that, least of all Black Star. No, he has to be comparing himself to someone else. Maybe multiple someones, it's so hard to tell these days. 

She passes by her favorite bakery, seeing the deadline for seasonal items to change hanging in the window. It's a rare time she's on this part of town for something other than work, so she stops in, taking stock of what was being put on the shelves after the lunch rush. There was many a day she and Black Star would gawk at the elaborate things, with him buying the newest, most bizarre thing on the shelves. It's fairly ordinary pickings today, but the Hokkaido tarts are always a hit and she gets a box of them instead.

What waits for her is a darkened apartment drowning in artificial rain sounds. When there's no one to perform for, he sleeps. She sets the box on the counter for him to find. Angela's still at school for another few hours and she's not sure what to tell Black Star if he wakes up to find her lost in their apartment. So she leaves once more, and tries not to think of how often the rain sounds have played this week. It's just temporary.  

Chapter Text

Enough  was enough. There was giving her the cold shoulder and then there was refusing to go to the school for their usual weapon/meister training. This was the exact thing the teachers were worried about. When he went to get ready this morning, he'd locked himself in the apartment's only bathroom. 

"Black Star!" She jiggles the knob, that failing she bangs on the door. "Open up!" She'd told him he needs more time to get ready than he used to, and reminded him so many times what to do before giving up and doing it herself. "Angela needs to use the bathroom."

"She can use it at school," he says, knowing full well she's already there. "You're going to be late." 

"We're going to be late," Tsubaki leans against the door, "it's not good for you to spend every day cooped up in here. Blair's waiting on us."

"You gonna make me?" Black Star asks.

The bathroom's full of artificial light. Ice cold water drips down the walls of the shower. On the counter is a set of clothes fit for braving the cold with his new intolerance of it in stark contrast to the sweats and tank he'd picked out for himself. They'd been in their waiting for him before he'd even gotten into the shower. There's only so many times he can remind his friends that he didn't forget how to do things until he's simply done. Over having to explain himself over and over again. 

"Wh-what?"

"Are you going to make me?" Black Star asks again, with furious diction. "You know you can." He glares at the door. "Are you?"

"Of course not." The accusation stings. She's never been able to force Black Star to do anything before. His willfulness has always gotten them into trouble. That doesn't mean she wants to back down and let him rot in self pity. "We spent so long fighting to get access to the training grounds again, I just thought-"

"Try asking!" Why was this so hard for her to understand? "Jesus fucking Christ Tsubaki, I need a friend not a god damn caretaker." It sickens him, that at times like this, starting over with a new weapons seems like the easier option. There wouldn't be as many hurdles to jump through. They'd come in seeing him as he was instead of assuming shit, constantly.

"This isn't how you treat a friend." She pulls away from the door. How many times had she already apologized when she didn't know what she did to make him so angry?  If that's what he wants, then fine, she'll leave without him and try again tomorrow. Blair was always game for a little outing, maybe some shopping would keep her mind off things. "Alright, I'll see you later." She packs up her things and gets ready to text Blair the change of plans.

"Tsubaki, wait." He's not in the clothes she set out for him, but he needs to see her face to face. "I know you're just trying to help, that's what makes it so damn infuriating. Everyone wants to help, but, I don't need it as much as you guys think I do. I'm not going to be able to stop Sid or Nygus from treating me like a kid, but you... I'm still your miester." It's not a card he likes to draw often. The whole miester/weapon hierarchy was always arbitrary in his eyes. He saw what taking it too seriously did to Soul especially, but in this case, it was the best way to talk about what happened without making her feel bad about it. "When you're in a weapon form, you're supposed to follow my lead. That hasn't changed."

"Part of why it was so easy for my brother to use that technique, was he didn't care about the person he was using the puppet shadow on," Tsubaki says. "There's only one who survived it. I will never do something that might harm you, you know that." She also knows that she's been falling into old habits lately. When Masamune's health was failing, it fell on her to take care of him. Everything was just achingly familiar. "That said, maybe we could use a break from training. I was going to take a look at the tea ceremony shop to see if there were any new blends in, did you want to come?"

"You were going to buy me something again?" She really was hopeless, he shook his head with a smile.

"I drink tea too!" She said, getting flustered. Still, it lifts her spirits to change the text to Blair about where they're going and see if anyone wants to come along. "You know I can see if Soul and Maka want to come with too."

"No." He's too late to catch himself. "I mean, I'd just rather it be us. We haven't hung out too much outside of training and chores."

"Is everything okay?" There was something else going on! Something to do with one of them. It couldn't be that they didn't want to hang out as much, otherwise Black Star would have jumped at the chance. Maybe envy? They had come out of the battle with a bunch of titles and praise at a time Black Star hadn't been doing well. That would be a difficult bridge to mend if true. 

"It's fine." He just knows what will happen. Maka will follow Soul along with the most beautiful smile and Black Star will feel like a sneering gremlin dragged behind them. He loves them both too much to start shit he can't finish. Not yet at least. Not until he has a better plan of attack. "Actually, why don't we look for something for them while we're out?" It was seemingly appropriate, after all they hadn't given them anything after they got their last soul, too busy with end of the world stuff to keep up with traditions. Besides, at the mention of planning a surprise, Tsubaki seems less worried.  "I have an idea."

It may be completely batshit, but there is still time before graduation for him to get Maka to change her mind. Sunlight and fresh air fuels the delusion that he can some how, with plausible deniability, open that door for himself. At least then he can tell himself he did something, as hard as it is to do anything at the moment. And then, Soul can't say Black Star did anything wrong. After all if Maka chooses to view a kind gesture as romantic, well, that's not anyone's fault is it? 

Chapter Text

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Maka's apartment is bright and colorful. She finds the exposed brick charming, and likes that under the posters and paint is a strong foundation. The kitchen is always fragrant with the smell of whatever coffee blend the Thompsons sneaked out to Soul under their employee discount. The walls bleached around the shapes of their posters. Their decorations for holidays each having a sacred space they return to each year. She doesn't need another apartment.

Maka can recite the story of how she and Soul met by heart. The details have come and gone over the years, but she remembers so clearly the lonely feeling of walking into a giant hall of miesters and weapons gathering while Black Star ditched her to do his usual shenanigans on the roof. She didn't know anyone there, and the pressure made her so anxious that she darted into the next room over to get away from it all. That's where she found Soul, trying to play off that he hadn't been doing the same thing. There are so many variables when selecting a weapon partner. They hold a meister's life in their hands. One wrong move on the battle field, one hiccup in a resonance link, and it's all over. It is beyond lucky, clandestine even, that they worked so well and Soul is just as eager to work non-stop. She doesn't need another weapon.

Maka carries around Blair all the time. On her shoulder or in her arms, there's something comforting about being able to hold another person regardless of form with no expectations. Despite Blair's frequent protests that she had magic, and could make whatever she wants, Maka still buys her things. Cat toys often catch her eye in the supermarket, and she's always keeping tabs for when the fish go on sale. Something that could have been a permanent reminder of her biggest failing as a miester now fills her home with so much warmth and life. In the wee hours of the morning, when something startles Maka awake, it eases her mind to know Blair is dozing in the front room. She doesn't need another family.

She doesn't need anything to change.

Soul is safety, Soul is warmth. She wouldn't give that up for the world. Now that she's fought a god head on, it seems there's no where else to go. For once, she wants to relax and enjoy the peace for a bit. Though, truth be told, she could see this being the rest of her life and be perfectly happy. It makes her warm and giddy just to think about it.

Then she sees the tabs open on Soul's laptop.

It's not that she meant to snoop. She was just tidying up the disaster that had become the coffee table while he was off getting another coffee. "You're looking at apartments?" The lease was coming up in a month, but she thought he'd ask her first. It's not like they needed more room, unless he was thinking of getting serious about piano again. It still stings this was how she found out.

"Oh, yeah," Soul shrugs, "figured it'd make sense to get something closer to the school. Now that I'm a death scythe, I qualify for better digs." The title did have its perks.

"Right, you're going to be working a lot with Kid." That made sense. If they could get in walking distance, it'd save a lot on gas later down the line. "Y'know Black Star and Tsubaki have been trying to find a first floor place, maybe we could all look at stuff together?" It slows the racing of her heart, a plan, one where everyone is still reaching toward the same steps in life together.

"I don't know," he gathers a bunch of stuff to throw in his coffee, "he's been really weird about me trying to help him. He might not go for it." 

"That's cause you were trying to do things for him," Maka shook her head, "believe me, I got an earful about how you and Tsubaki were keeping his homework from him before discharge. I'm sure it'd be a different story if all of us are helping each other out." She pets Blair before gathering the mugs to soak in the sink. In the kitchen, Soul has an odd look on his face.

"About that," he's as careful with his words as he can, "I was looking at places just for me." 

"But I'm not getting another weapon partner," Maka freezes with his back turned to him, "why wouldn't I come with you?"

"I know you said that, but-"

"There is no but!" She hates how sharp her voice is, far too upset for what was being said. There's no guarantee he's leaving, he's just looking in case something pops up. A good flat listing could be there and gone in a flash. They ran into that when they first moved in together. Competing to get a place was a four month long headache. "You could have asked me." Why hadn't he thought to ask her?

"There's nothing to ask about. I was just looking." Forget the fancy youtube video latte, he was just going to go with cream and sugar. "This is why I didn't say anything. I didn't want you freaking out." The place feels smaller every year. Where before he was too ashamed to give away his background, now he wouldn't mind a bit more luxury. The novelty of memorizing which outlets worked, and when the next brown out would be had long worn off. 

She doesn't want another apartment.

The last time she moved, it wasn't by choice, she didn't want to go through that again. It took so long to make this place feel like home, her home. If that's what Soul wanted to do, she could make it work, but only if he wanted her to be there. She didn't want to just force herself into his space. Especially with how much of a home body she'd been lately while her shoulder was healing. But it's healed now, there's no reason to hide away indoors from the faceless sun and moon. 

Distance could be good for them. Help them figure out who they are on their own while adjusting to a different kind of relationship. If only it didn't feel like someone pulling velcro apart, with Maka being the plastic hooks. She's comfortable here, with him, and would love nothing more for every lazy Sunday to be this way, but he needs to be told that it seems. When she does, it needs to be kinder, not some defense remark while she's loading the dishwasher. Change isn't always a bad thing.

But she doesn't want another partner.

She doesn't want to loose her family again.

Chapter Text

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The old library is maze-like, with Maka following an invisible thread to every shelf they need to go to. Her fingers run along the spines lovingly, but her expression is distant. She's deep in thought about something, and Black Star doesn't want to break the spell.

When she's this deep in thought, she looks ready to kill someone. The very same face she wore when she punched a god in the face. It's impossible for him to separate it from weightlessness, cold rocky ground, and a sea of unfiltered stars. 

She catches him staring, "What?"

"Nothing," he takes the book she planned to hand him. "Race you to the table?"

"This is a library!" She hisses under her breath.

Her hesitation is all he needs to win. Between the two of them is a  tunnel created by books. Her escapist fiction on one side, his reference books on plant care on the other. If there's anything 80s movies have taught him, it's that taking care of tiny things can be a form of combat training. Tsubaki's explanation for it was so elegant, but the best he can hash out is it has something to do with patience. Either way, there are many plant deaths in his future.

"You're not supposed to run in the library," she says as she sits back down. The shit eating grin he flashes her is unbearable. "You know what I mean!" 

"Maka, Maka, when will you learn that hesitating is how you loose."

"We weren't-" she sighs, "whatever. Did you get everything you need?"

"Yeah."

There isn't enough room in his bag yet to put the books, so he keeps them in his lap for now. They check out and he goes down the route he planned, even if it's a little out of the way. The palo verde plants are in full bloom, but not enough to dust carpet the walkway yet. 

"Listen-" He pulls out her present, unable to find anything to wrap it in. He should have, it would have added to the officialness of the gift. He just got caught up in the move. "I got you this." 

It's a boring, brown leather book back. As much as he would have liked to find something more magical girl like, they just weren't hanging around in old town shops. Something like that would take more time and planning to find.

"Thanks," she takes politely.

"Look inside." He's getting in his head about this again. Her reaction was fine, not over the top, but fine. Appropriate for receiving something practical out of the blue. He's impossibly impatient as she fishes around for the set of gloves. 

"Oh, my."

That's more like it. He guessed right on the style, she immediately puts one on to admire it and hope springs eternal she'll wear both back the whole walk. He regrets not rehearsing what he wanted to say. There's so much and he has to condense it all down into a few, digestible pieces.

"It's a little late, but I wanted to get you something for Verona Day." What comes next? Should he brag about how long it took to find the right thing? Or acknowledge she's never been big on the holiday, but it seemed appropriate for a confession? There's a huge part of him that wants to bluntly stumble out into the fray with a canned 'i like you' and then go from there. Only, at the mention of the holiday, she seems so sad. "Oh no, are the seams shit? I tried check but-"

"No they're very pretty." She rubs her fingers together, the satin slides, no good for combat as they are. Taking something delicate and modifying it would ruin what appeared to be vintage gloves. They were too pretty to risk damaging them. "I didn't think to get you anything."

"It's fine, I didn't tell you I was getting you something." Though he's a bit smug about the fact he had successfully made it a surprise. 

"Soul didn't get me anything either." Which in all fairness, she had denounced the holiday up and down for years. It was all about buying things and making people feel bad for not buying things. She'd done nothing up until now to hint she had changed her mind.

"Does it have to be him?" Black Star's tries his best to hide his disappointment. He knew this was a possibility, he just hadn't wanted to think about it. It felt so good to feel like someone would like him back if he just said the right thing. "I know you're excited about him liking you, but is he really the only person you want to like you like that?"

"You really think he likes me?"

"Yeah." Fuck him. "You don't just go shish kabobing yourself for people you don't love. It's not a weapon thing, it's a him thing. Of course he fucking loves you." 

That's what does it.

That's what puts the smile he's desperately been chasing on her face.

It breaks his heart in half.

"That's- Black Star?"

Luckily they're close enough to where they split that he can pick up the pace so she doesn't see his face when the first hint disappointment tries to leak down his face. Tsubaki's in the apartment right now, so he can't go there. He'll have to find some shadowy place to hide so he can pack all this shit up where no one can see. 

"I'll talk to you later?" 

He waves back to show he heard her, not trusting his voice in the slightest.

She chose someone else.

He knew that.

It still hurt like hell.

Chapter Text

Tea.

It's the formal thing to offer a guest. Black Star kneels at the Kotatsu with a bunch of bags set out, since he doesn't actually know what Jackie likes. They never hang out alone. She's stoic and he doesn't know what to talk about to make any of this seem remotely casual.

"Kim said I should talk to you," he waits to see the flicker of recognition, the telltale sign of past gossip. There is none. There's nothing to go off of at all in fact. "You wouldn't happen to know why?"

"No." Overly polite, with high set shoulders, she waits for him to serve her tea. "Surely she must have given you the reason already." Her eyes were sharp, accusatory glimmers. "Otherwise this could have been a text."

He didn't want there to be a paper trail to be passed along. The last thing he needed was for Kim to cash in on any outstanding bets where it came to Maka rejecting him in the most round about way possible. "She got out of me that I was going to confess to someone," he sighed, "didn't go well." Well, his plan had been flawless right up until Maka changed the conversation to Soul. Her one-tract mind was great for many things, including avoiding uncomfortable conversations. "She thought you'd be a good one to talk to, if that happened."

"Oh." The mask shatters, and her voice is suddenly very quiet. Her attention is solely consumed by red coils that bleed from the teabag out into the water. Hibiscus, bitter and floral. "That's unfortunate. I'm not sure she meant that as a way to help you." The silence hangs in the air, with neither certain of how to proceed. "I don't suppose the person you confessed to has been trying to set you up with other people?"

"No, god no," that explains the callous attitude when she sat down, "no you have to acknowledge you rejected someone to do that." He couldn't even get a yes or no out of her. She just only heard what she wanted to hear. "No, I just keep getting asked questions about whether someone else likes her."

Jackie hisses in second hand embarrassment. "Dating advice, really? I can't imagine you've been that subtle-"

"Been pretty freaking obvious. Tsubaki figured it out, and I didn't even tell her who."

"How long?"

"I don't know." He's known her his whole life. She's the first person to ever hug him or hold his hand, even if it was years ago by now. The fairytale logic he'd been operating under had not held up to cold hard reality, and he wasn't quite ready to look back and consider how much time he'd spent holding a torch for someone that wouldn't take it. "I just, sort of always saw her there: neighbors, missions, kid shit. She wants to go somewhere else." While he can see the same scenario Maka does, with him being friends with her and Soul as they go do coupley shit, he can't view it with the same rose colored lenses. "What about you?"

"Sixth grade," Jackie sighs, "all I ever wanted was to be close and well, best friends is as close as I can get. I told her I loved her before the fight with Asura and she... She gave me a kind reason why it was 'no', but it still hurts." Kim would look like a teenager when Jackie was twenty, when she was forty, when she had grey hairs framing a wrinkled face. Kim kept a distance between her and all humans, and that was Jackie's only consolation. "Seeing me sad makes her feel bad, so we've been kind of stuck until I can stop feeling... awful." The easiest solution would be to cut ties until she could put herself together, but she can't bring herself to do that. "I want her to be happy so bad, and I want to be there for her, but I keep making things worse at the moment." Once she can put on a happy face without it looking forced, she'll be able to do it.

"Did saying it out loud make you feel better?"

"Umm..." She wipes away a tear before it can form. "Sort of? It kinda felt like this pressure I had to get off my chest, and now it just feels empty. I, I couldn't tell you which was better. If I hadn't said anything, I'd probably be at her house right now, but it would have ached like crazy." 

"That was months ago, and you still feel like shit?"

"Yeah," but she was smiling. "Not as bad as before, but yeah."

"Does anyone know?" He feels like he would have heard if Jackie had gotten her heart stomped on. It's the sort of thing Liz loves to keep an ear out for.

"No." She bit her lip. "I... I'm in love with Kim." 

"I'm in love with Maka." There's a weight there he hadn't noticed until now. It lifts with each breath, and a dull calm flows down his arms. The disappointment still lingers over his shoulders, but it's claws aren't as sharp and further away from his heart. Like treading water in a tepid pond, it is everywhere and nowhere all at once. Jackie nods with no further questions, no laughter, just accepting what he says for what it is. 

They drank the rest of their tea in silence.

Chapter Text

The stage is set for another cozy night in. Maka splurged a little on a fluffy cheese cake instead of their typical movie night fanfare. A two thirds vote has on of Maka's comfort movies as the movie of choice. Their fleeces already set out and drinks of choice lined up on the coffee table, everything is perfect.

"Oh, I forgot to show you what Black Star got me!" So few people had thought to get her something after cementing her second star. Of course, her father was quick to heap on attention, but it wasn't quite the same. Dinner and a book were standard fair for any special occasion. "Aren't they pretty?" She shows off the gloves, daintily pressed against her heart and holds her breath.

"Cool," he nods in general approval and goes back to gearing up the movie.

She's not sure what she expected. A compliment would have been nice, especially since she wouldn't be able to wear them as often as she would have liked. Perhaps a tinge of jealously? She got jealous anytime he got little notes from fans, then again, there's hardly a universe where Black Star got her something without Soul already knowing about it. Thought his reaction proved he had no hand in picking them out. A surprise then, like he too had gotten her something and just spaced it. The new vinyl she gotten him was proudly hanging on the wall of his bedroom, but when he asked if she wanted something in return, she had said no. She was just doing her duty after all. She needed to be more direct, or she'd never get what she wanted.

"Listen," she fidgets with the pearls before tucking them away, "I know I said I didn't want anything, but before the ceremony would you mind... I'd like a necklace." Any kind would be fine as long as it was something he saw that reminded him of her. "It doesn't have to be super expensive, just something silvery." 

"Yeah, sure," he settles back on the couch with a puzzled smile. "Any reason you haven't got one yourself?"

"It's not a gift if you buy it for yourself," she blushes, "besides I want it to be from you, something I can wear all the time and I've always likes them better than rings." Rings just got in the way. They dug into her flesh during combat, and were so easy to loose when taking off her gloves. A lot of meisters went with rubber ones, but those just didn't give Maka the same feeling or keep them out of the way. Even her mother's ring just sat in a memory box on her dresser. 

"Pucka shells, got it."

"Soul!" 

"Coprolite on a nylon cord."

"Gross!" In a huff, she flops onto the couch. "Just get me a locket or something."

"There we go." Maka was picky and she clearly wanted this thing for something. He was not about to botch it by getting her something she hated. 

"Thank you." She settles in, her face flushed when he joins her on the couch.

"Don't thank me yet, I haven't gotten it yet."

"It'll be great." She flops to the side, resting her head on his shoulder. Heart a flutter when he doesn't pull away. The movie starts and she enjoys the blissful moment before he wants the freedom to reach for a drink or check his messages. It is, after all, a movie they've both seen before. Still, Maka takes advantage of the genre to set the tone and voice something she's still been too nervous to say out loud. She likes him, despite the many misunderstandings and chaos and fights, they always find a way back to this quiet comfort. If she let him, she'd be content to doze off with his arm around her under the same fluffy blanket. Until then, she has to be content with the clashing patterns laying side by side, while he breaks her emersion with the occasional meme he thinks she'll like.

Chapter Text

Two Months Earlier

He doesn't want to be awake. The pain is blinding, and all around him. Every open cut stings from having antibacterial crap rubbed into it. His left arm spasms from where it hangs in traction. He's all braces and wires, like the tin man. He can't roll over to get off the fold in the blankets, can't talk with his neck immobilized in a collar, can't think over the pain. 

"How about here?"

He's not sure what they're doing, but he grunts a curt 'no'. The nurse moves on, he catches a glimmer in her hand, before she moves on to another area.

"What about here?"

Another no. Couldn't she move quicker? Tsubaki had to leave the room for this, and she wasn't bringing any visitors in until the nurse was done. Over and over again she asks the same question, and the answers always the same. He can't tell what she's doing and he'd kill someone for a muscle relaxant about now. His arm was literally trying to kill him.

"Hmm..." He didn't like the sound of that hmm. That was 'I was looking for a different answer' kind of hmm. "We'll give it a few more days. Maybe it's taking longer for the neural block to wear off." She smiles, shakes her head to someone in the doorway and quickly steps out.

Of course, he can't see where she went, so much as hears the door swing open and shut. With no additional set of footsteps he assumes he's alone. Feeling around with his good hand he can find the blanket, his exposed thigh, and- So that's why Tsubaki didn't want anyone coming in yet. He covers himself and hopes it's good enough. Then, in a moment of self preservation, hits the call button in the hopes that through a game of telephone Tsubaki will get the message that she should come in first and then let people in.

The silence in-between is mind numbing. He forgot to ask for the damn pain meds in all the confusion. Or maybe he had and the answer was no? Tsubaki would know the answer. She'd been in charge of knowing most of what was going on while everyone kept him in the dark.

Present Day

"Careful!" Tsubaki's too late to catch the tea before it splatters in his lap. "Shit!" She throws a towel at him and rushes to soak a rag in ice cold water.

"Relax Tsubaki, it's fine." 

"It's not fine! It's scalding hot!" After a great deal of nagging, he lowers his sweats and sure enough, his leg is bright red and glistening. All he'd felt was wet. "Here, put this on it." She hands him the ice rag and then goes to find a fresh set of clothes for him.

It's been well over 'a few more days'. Since then, he has to be more careful about everything. Even though he can feel pressure for the most part, his other sensations have been spotty.

From the knee down, he can't feel pain. They figured that out when Angela, while sitting on his lap, had figured out both of them could roll if she kicked against the elevator wall. Someone else had to point out he was bruised from the back and forth. Angela lost lap privileges for a while after that. Before and after PT he has to feel with his hands if the muscles are overworked or if he accidentally scraped anything. The countless checks add minutes to his day he wish he could get back. 

His sense of hot and cold has returned to the inner part of his leg, but outer and below it was still anyone's guess it seemed. Though to anyone who asked, he was used to pushing the bath water as hot as it could go. Still, he needs to be more careful, if nothing else to prevent Tsubaki from having a heart attack in her twenties. 

He supposes, he should consider himself lucky that of all the things breaking in his life, it's his heart that hurts the most. The fact he has space in his head at all to worry and fuss about other people seemed unattainable just a month ago. Still, he's been too distracted lately. While he's told Tsubaki the back cover version of what happened between him and 'the mystery girl', he really doesn't want to get into the gritty details about how he's getting upset about seeing little things like a wuss. The tea blend he'd gotten Maka still in the plastic should be allowed to sit out without him getting in his head about the fact she hasn't been over since their trip to the library. He really shouldn't be doing stupid shit like staring at it instead of the cup he was pouring hot water into.

"Where are your pants?" Angela asks, when she moseys on in for breakfast.

"Tsubaki stole them." He says, which Angela accepts at surface value. 

"Ooo," she takes the box he'd been glaring at, "can I have some?"

"Please do." Make it Angela's tea in his head so he doesn't get jump scared by ordinary kitchen stuff. He catches pants Tsubaki tosses his way from the bedroom, using the need to change as an excuse to vacate the kitchen and proverbially lick his wounds. 

Chapter Text

The night terrors still haven't stopped.

From the day they got back from the moon, Maka's dreams were invaded with images of death and isolation. Too exhausted to wake, too scared to fully rest, her screams ring through the apartment at odd hours of the night. The one time Soul tried to wake her from one, she split his lip thrashing to get away. She never remembers them in the morning and according to Dr. Stein, there's nothing that can be done about them. The only thing any of them found that works remotely, is having Blair sleep on Maka's chest at night. Something about the warm weight over her old injury makes her feel protected in the middle of the night. Soul had hoped, vainly, they would have been back  to normal by now.

His meister is a bit of a workaholic, never satisfied with a first attempt at anything. In a way, it's poetic it took them two tries to get it right, and still are the youngest team to reach making a death scythe. He anticipated her barreling ahead to the next step to following in her mother's footsteps. Only, Maka's been overly cautious about committing to anything. It's been months now and she's still as anxious as ever.

At first, he thought it was because of Black Star's injury, but he's been back to his busy self and Maka still waits.

Then he thought it was because she'd yet to pick a new partner, but Sid's had a scythe on standby and Maka still waits.

Now when people bring up the battle on the moon they praise him, Kid and Black Star, but Maka's name appears less and less, and she sits there and waits.

He had no clue what she's waiting for, but it saddens him to see her put her entire life on hold. They can't remain in the same apartment together for all of time, can't freeze the winter on a perfect day, the world will and has begun to move on without them. He's ready to get out there and do the death scythe thing. Kid has plans to station him in Death City letting Spirit retire from combat at long last. It's a cushy gig that'll let him work on his own projects in the quiet hours while spending his days with the people he cares about most. This is what they've been working toward for years.

Yet, Maka always sounds nervous talking about the future. She has no clear plans and waits for something, anything to change. He loves her dearly, is too scared to leave her like this, wistfully sighing at nothing like a ghost in their home. Separation scares her, but it's the only thing he can think of to get his old miester back. The restless, stubborn, perfectionist that was going to crawl out of the shadow of her parents and make her own way at the DWMA. She clings to him, seeking comfort he's more than happy to provide, but it's been months of this and she's yet to make any moves to change.

She's just not herself. 

And since he agreed to get her that necklace? Even worse, worse than the underclassman that follows him around when she thinks he's not looking. Maka's been acting less like his meister and more like a fan. The fact she the only plans she wants to make involves them together, has him on edge. Every word out of her mouth now feels coded, as she searches his expression for the 'right' reaction. She wants something more from him before she'll set the wheels of her life in motion, and he's not sure what to do.

She's so fragile right now. He saw how even the strongest person he knew could crumble under change. Black Star, for whatever reason, has been hanging out with Jackie more than anyone in their circle. The only responses they get is that maybe his frequent healing sessions with Kim and training Angela has pulled him away from them. Still, Soul sees this, and he doesn't want it to happen to Maka. He's just not sure what he can do to give her what she wants. It's a logical fallacy with no right answer. 

She tries to act like nothing should change, and then waits for something more to happen. 

Chapter Text

All I ever wanted was to be close and well, best friends is as close as I can get.

Jackie's words haunt Black Star. He misses hanging out with Soul and Maka, misses being able to text either of them at a moments notice when he saw something funny or when something interesting happened. Them falling in love with each other is the sort of picture perfect BS that the school loves to sell to people in movies. Even the most stubbornest of adults had thought it was an inevitability, leaving Black Star the only one to think there could have been a place for him. It's not the first time he's acted on impulse like a mad man, but it surely is the worst he's felt about failing, since all that is left for him is one final questions.

Is it enough?

Is just being friends enough, or will the ache in his heart persist, making each interaction the equivalent to putting his hand on a hot iron? Could time lessen the ache and make it possible to be near them again, or would he have to accept there would always be distance between them? It's a question Jackie's been wrestling with for herself and he's seen how drawn out and painful that process is. So is the prospect of forever being distant from the people he considers family and then some. 

Still, he can't find it in himself to say no when Soul asks to hang out. If it's just the two of them, it should be fine. It's good to be outside, frost clinging to the grass in a silvery green across the fields. With each dragon-like breath of fog, the tension lifts and he's fallen back into a comfortable pattern. 

"Thanks for coming out," Soul says as they loop around the chilled artificial lake, "feels like people have been scattered lately and I know you're super busy. I just don't know who else to talk to about- Maka's been acting weird lately." His hands are in his pockets and it takes him a few steps to notice Black Star stopped following him. "You've noticed too, hunh? It's not just me?"

God.

Fucking.

Damn it.

"Yeah," Black Star sighs, "she's been really nervous about telling you something and asked me for advice about it, nothing bad." Maka wants to confess in her own time, but he wasn't about to let Soul have a month long anxiety attack over it. 

"Is that why you've been avoiding us lately?" Soul shook his head. "I'm sorry. That can't be an easy position to be in, and here I was going to do the same thing." 

It's a small gesture, but it's a bit vindicating to hear someone else say it sucks without Black Star feeling like he's been complaining. Soul thinking it'd be a difficult position to be in soothes the ache in his chest. Is it enough to be friends? Even if it's difficult, even if it hurts?

"If you tell you her first, she'll go bananas," Black Star says. "She likes notes in lockers, and special gifts, all that romance manga shit. Whatever you do will be fine as long as it looks like you thought about it."

"Woah, woah, wait," Soul's panicked voice cuts in, "I can't- I don't like her like that."

Shit.

"I don't want to hurt her," Soul says, "that's the problem." He curses under his breath. "It's nothing personal, that's just not where my head's at- I didn't even realize Stein and Marie were together until a week ago."

Soul is fretting, and all Black Star can think of is Maka's reaction when she finds out. He could have stopped this. When Maka was first questioning whether she was seeing signs where there were none, when she asked him to talk to Soul for her, he could have gotten her an answer and stopped this. The winter would have been spent with her nursing a broken heart instead of a crush.

Now, she was going to feel like an idiot. There was an open bear trap where she plans to place her heart, wound so tight there's no way to dull the teeth. It was going to hurt her worse than it should have. He knew first hand the pain of rejection, how it lingers and seeps into unexpected areas. She was going to cry, haunted by what could have been, no matter what either of them did at this point. 

"I should have said something sooner," Black Star said.

"No man, this wasn't- Not that I'm any better, but you had your own things to worry about, not all this." There's a linger question in Soul's eyes. 

How long did he know?

When had Maka accosted him with this, when he was fighting with Tsubaki over PT? In the hospital? Black Star's quick to cut the speculation short.

"I'll try to talk to her out of it," he says. "She wants to confess at graduation."

"Shit. No, man, you don't have to do that."

"She's going to cry," Black Star says, "she hates crying in front of other people, you know that. The least we can do is give her a chance not to." He has a bad feeling it's too late, that the trademark Albarn stubbornness had already left the station toward a doomed idea, like many times before. He was still willing to try. 

Chapter Text

It's dangerous territory he's signing himself up for. Black Star knows Soul rejecting Maka will be awful. He wouldn't wish this pain on anyone. This whole week he spent psyching himself up, preparing himself for how he was going to navigate these friendships while still recovering from being rejected. Now that it's not going to happen, that Maka's not going to walk off into the sunset with someone else, there's a selfish part of him that feels...

Relief.

Hope.

Guilt

He tries to quash it. She's given him her answer. If it's not Soul, then there's no one, that's the story Maka's been telling herself for months. 'No one' is going to kill her. She's not going to fall into Black Star's arms, or suddenly see his advances as desirable, she's just going to break. She'll need a friend more than ever, especially with Soul being the one she wants to tell everything to, and she won't be able to get comfort from Soul about Soul rejecting her. That's just not going to happen. She's not going to know to go to Jackie and she might think to turn to Tsubaki, but she also might close herself off and deal with it alone. It's no way to go.

It'd be nice if she did change her mind about him. He wouldn't be satisfied being a second option if she did. Not in the long term anyway.

It'd be nice if she could shake it off like a school yard crush. Let it be an unserious flight of fancy that she brushes off as mildly embarrassing and something she'll get teased about later down the line. She hasn't allowed herself permission to like someone since the divorce, and the implications make Black Star's stomach twist. 

It'd be nice if he could pretend he wasn't glad the next few years would be far less turbulent. Nothing would change, in the comforting way Kid thrived in, where the biggest fire was going to be a few unmet expectations. What happily ever after looked like was different for everyone and it had taken a while for them to sort that out and figure out what that looks like when they're all still together.

As twisted as it is, his mind plays Soul's rejection over and over again, a salve against an aching wound. It's not going to happen, it's not going to happen, it's not going to happen. Relief, hope, guilt. He wants to be there for her, he wants to be there for himself, he knows it's going to crush her.

He needs proof this vomit inducing rollercoaster of emotions will come to an end. Make it real, a memory well before its time, transforming one little word from a band aid solution to a cure he can drown in. He's so tired of feeling out of sorts, like some wounded creature to be pitied in the corner. He's a warrior god, a protector, not someone that revels in the misfortune of others. It's incredibly cruel how much one thought lifts his spirits.

Who cares if he can't have her? No one can.

Chapter Text

He loves her. 

It's written into the fabric of his soul. He would rather die than see harm come towards her. His nerves and muscles buckled under the weight of it. No matter how far they are, the scars left behind by that love will remain.

He loves her not.

To be in the same room alone feels unbearable now, and not by her wishes. She can't recall if she said something to make him uncomfortable, but she would take it all back in a heartbeat if it made it more comfortable for him to stay. She craves connection so badly, a brush of hair behind the ear, a lingering hug. It shouldn't be this painful. Love shouldn't make someone shrivel away when left unspoken. 

Dandelions, in all their buttery petals, made the game play out far longer than necessary. Maka's fingers are dyed yellow as she goes back and forth, petal after petal, shredding innocent flowers to ease her anxiety. A pile of manhandled bodies beside her. The cool air, and methodic task help clear her head. She's over thinking things, like she's always prone to doing when something feels life changing. 

"Oi!" Black Star shouts at her from the sidewalk. The hill a bit too steep for him to experiment with his limits today. He waits for Maka to abandon her childish task to join him on the walkway that winds through the park. "You want to go somewhere, I don't know, private?" It's a park, and even if it isn't that busy, there's still a chance someone might overhear.

"Private? Oh no, is something wrong."

"Not exactly." It was so much more cathartic to pull the plug on the whole confession thing when it was all in his head. "It's about the plan, your plan, for graduation."

"Oh." Her face goes scarlet. "Oh, yeah, that. I mean it's nothing that dramatic. I just figure, with everyone in a good mood, it'll make it easier to bring it up casually. It's cool to be casual instead of making a big deal out of things." She has thought about this a lot. It's the perfect, distracting environment that'll give Soul a chance to think without 'ignoring' her. Then afterward, everyone will be in one place to share the news, adding to the festivities. Or they could keep it private for a while, whatever Soul felt the most comfortable with. The spotlight would be on him enough that day.

"I don't think you should say anything." Everyone would be there to see her cry, or need to leave, and it would bring up nothing but questions she wouldn't want to answer. "Even waiting until after would be better, but I really think you should just let this go."

"What are you talking about?" She frowns. "What did you tell him?"

"I didn't tell him anything!" He may have confirmed some suspicions, but it wasn't like he crawled out of the wood work to sabotage this whole thing. He'd been really, really good about curbing that impulse. "He thought you were acting weird and it was freaking him out. You acting like you like him was freaking him out. It sounds like confessing right now would be a bad idea, so I'm telling you before you make an idiot of yourself in front of everyone." Damn, he couldn't keep the venom out of his voice even when he tries.

"I thought you asked him," Maka ran after him, "Just a few weeks ago you said that he for sure likes me."

"Yeah, as your friend, but I told you it'd be weird for me to ask him, and I didn't. I waited for him to bring it up." 

"Sure, waited, that's why you've been avoiding him like the plague for weeks-"

"-I wasn't-"

"-you think I can't tell when you're trying to get out of something, but I can." The wind was cold. She glares at him, a single slab of concrete feeling like a mile. "How long have you known?"

"I didn't! I told you I didn't know, and now that I do, I'm telling you something different."

"So, what, you lied to me?" She was more confused than ever. 

"No!" There was a mom and her kids coming around the corner, he needed to be more careful with his tone. This is why he wanted to have this conversation in private, but Maka was being weird about being alone with him. "I want you to be happy and if he makes you happy, he should like you back, but I was wrong. I'm sorry for not checking sooner, alright? You seriously don't get what a shitty position that was to put me in. You should have asked someone else."

"Why?"

"Because I'm jealous, okay!?" Soul got to be the war hero that stands on stage next to Kid, he got the fanclub, he got the girl and the bastard didn't want any of it. When it was something he didn't want, Black Star admired how little Soul seemed to care about what other people thought while doing his own thing, but right now it was royally pissing him off. "I'm trying to warn you Maka, but once again, you just don't want to hear anyone's voice other than your own."

She grabs him by the collar. "Listen here you jerk," she said, "the only thing I've done is tried to protect you without treating you like a baby. You want me to tell me what I've heard!? I heard you've been throwing tantrums at Nygus for doing her job, giving Tsubaki the silent treatment for listening to teachers and pressuring Kim to do experimental magic. Jackie comes back crying every time she talks to you. You haven't tried to visit or talk to Soul or Kid since getting discharged. You've been an asshole to everyone around you!" She let him go. That's what this had to be, he was just finally taking out his bullshit on her. Couldn't stand to see anyone around him doing better than himself, so he had to sabotage them instead. He never learned. 

"Have I been an asshole to you?" he asks.

"You mean other than right now?" Maka bites her lip. One thing comes to mind, when he was high off his ass and kept asking where she was. That time wasn't his fault. Ever since he's been weirdly kind to her and so angry at everyone else, and the stories she's heard broke her heart every time. "I'm confessing to Soul whether you want me to or not."

"Maka-"

"I'll see you at graduation." She left with no room for discussion. She was going to do this. She was going to show everyone, including herself, that she'd been silly to ever doubt Soul's feelings.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

It's going to be perfect.

Pizza from Soul's favorite place is warming in the oven. He sort of hinted at the fact the locket she wanted finally arrived. Forget about gift wrapping, she wants it around her neck as soon as possible. Then she lights a bunch of candles they typically use for blackouts, but it'll be fine for a little bit. Soul never takes a long time in the shower, so she gets everything looking as pretty as she can with what precious little time she has. For the finishing touch, a pretty background image on the tv playing songs he likes. Or at least, songs he recommended to her throughout their partnership.

It's going to be perfect.

Soul immediately clocks something is up when he steps out of the shared hallways. He squints at the tv at first, deciphering something about it. Maka, getting more flustered the closer it is time to confess, busies herself setting the plates. Checks her reflection one last time in her phone camera. A touch of lipstick, and a light eyeliner. Not her best work, but enough to make her features pop by candle light. When she looks up at him, he seems even more confused.

It's going to be perfect.

"Well, go on," Maka says with a smile.

He's even more confused that the pizza slice is on a plate instead of the usual free for all in the kitchen. Neither of them are slow eaters, and pizza night usually means neither of them has to do dishes. The coffee next to his plate is a cute surprise though. He'd seen it waiting for him in the takeout cup fridge earlier, but resisted temptation. Maka tried to make it look more cafe like, even if the latte art had long blended with the rest of the brew. 

"What's the special occasion?" he asks. 

"N-nothing!" She's antsy in her chair. "I did see the box on the doorstep though."

"Of course." His smile is dazzling. He abandons his food for a brief bit to get it from his bedroom. 

It's going to be perfect. She'll open the box, gasp, and ask him to put it on her. Then with him at her back, she'll say what's been on her mind for so long. Then she'll finally be able to hold his hand or sit next to him on the couch without him trying to put distance between them. At long last break down whatever barrier has been building between them. She likes him, it's okay for him to treat her as something more than just his meister now. She looks up at him in the doorway, and his smile falters slightly.

"I don't know if you'll like it," he says, dropping the box off in front of her so he can sit down again. "I kept the receipt if you wanted to exchange it for something else."

It's a black, velvet clam shell. She pops the lid, the heart shaped locket gleaming by candle glow. Her heart swells, it's every bit dainty and classy as she hoped it would be. The face of the locket made of glass to show little charms inside it. A silver bird, the emblem of a meister and a silver heart with something engraved on it.

Friends

"Like I said, if you don't like it, we can exchange it," Soul's quick to say when the excitement flees Maka entirely. 

It's not the sort that she'd need help wearing. When she hangs it around her neck, it feels heavy. She loves it, she does, she just wish there was something else inside it.

"Anyway, the new place looks great," he pushes forward, aiming to take the conversation far from whatever criticism Maka might have. Optimistic about the move, hopeful Maka will find a new partner they both get along with, on and one. Maka feels the moment slipping through her fingers.

"Soul," she needs to say this before the lights come on. Before they're not a single shadow that can mask her nervousness or disguise his apprehension. "I like you."

What follows is deafening silence.

Chapter Text

Maka hates crying in front of people, with every fiber of her being.

He knew, Soul knew the whole time, and had been hoping her feelings would go away if he said nothing, did nothing to encourage her. He thanked her for telling him, all while ice cold dread filled her body. It was as kind of an answer as he could give her, but it was still a no. In a last ditch effort to keep the peace, he left the apartment for an unknown period of time. 

The music is still playing, the candles still lit, and Maka feels utterly possessed the moment the front door closes. She curls in on herself, fat tears making constellations on her lap. The few bites of pizza she'd had isn't sitting well in her stomach. As much as she wants to pull herself together quickly, any attempts to hold back just makes her feel sicker. She can't stand the smell of it now, can't bare to hear another note. The idea of putting everything away so daunting when she can barely sit up straight with how incontrollable her sobs are. It talks all her strength just to douse the candles, so she can run from it all to the quiet of her room. 

Once locked away, where there's no chance someone might find her by accident, she stops fighting it. Openly sobbing into her pillow, makeup smudging against the pillowcase. All the silly fantasies crumbling apart one by one like snowflakes landing on an open palm.

He's never going to ask her to dance without her cracking the whip, or tenderly kiss the back of her hand. The story of how they met whittled down to something most people wouldn't care about the second he took her father's place as the local death scythe. It didn't matter how hard she tries to understand music or force herself to like the artists he likes, no amount of wanting it to work was enough to make it feel worth even trying. 

He simply has no interest in that sort of thing. There's nothing she can do to change that, nor was there anything about her that made him come to this conclusion. He's decided that solely on how uncomfortable advances from anyone makes him feel. As far as he's concerned, the romantic lovey-dovey sort of relationship is never in his future, with anyone.

Knowing this doesn't change how wretched Maka feels about it. How she is almost outside her body, cringing at how gross and pathetic it is that she's fallen apart so easily. Everyone around her saw this coming a mile away and she chose not to listen. She wanted to believe for once that fairytale endings were possible. It seemed so within her reach, and instead she's crying almost as much as she did when she found out about the divorce. It makes no logical sense, but she can't stop herself, holding on for dear life as her body purges all the stress and anxiety she's held onto leading up to the confession. It is the most miserable hour of her life, and part of her wonders if it's too much. A wholly disproportionate amount of sadness for what shakes out to nothing happening, a concerning level of despair over being rejected. 

Do all people act like this?

Or has she been acting a little crazy this whole time?

A little too invested in the idea of a relationship?

A little too convinced this was her only chance?

Maybe that's what scared him off, what scared her best friend off, she'd been making everyone uncomfortable while she was living in a fantasy. The question of what to do when the other shoe dropped hanging over all of their heads. She doesn't want to be alone right now, but she absolutely can't let anyone see her acting like this. They'll think she fully lost it then.

So she waits until she feels in control of her body again. Waits until she wipe off her ruined makeup and breathe through her nose. Plunges her face into cold water to hide the puffiness of her eyes, and rehearses in her head what she's going to do next. She's going to see if she can stay with someone else tonight and let Soul have the apartment to himself. She's going try and sleep off the aftermath of all this crying. Then, hopefully, in the morning she can trust herself to speak in full sentences without breaking down again, be in a position where she can look Soul in the eye and acknowledge they need to talk about what comes next. For now, she sends out a few texts and waits.

Chapter Text

This was a mistake.

Maka, in her desperation to get away had landed at the doorstep of the person who responded first. She anticipated, when Tsubaki let her in, that she'd feel like a zoo animal under Angela's curious stare only to be shoed into the bedroom where she could talk it out in private. Maybe watch a tv show to distract her until her appetite came back. 

She didn't expect Black Star to answer the door. Some part of her just assumed that he'd go running to Soul's side as soon as news traveled. Apparently, she'd been too soon for that. She bit her lip, glaring at the welcome mat, well aware she couldn't hide 'something' happened. Especially with him deathly silent at the door.

"You were right," is all she can say. She sounds like she'd gargled glass, barely above a whisper. The light in the doorway grew brighter.

"I'm sorry Maka," he says. He truly was. None of his racing thoughts had prepared him for seeing her tear stained cheeks first hand. Being separated from Soul like this, it was her worst fear realized in many ways. Black Star took Tsubaki's advice, holding his tongue as he welcomes Maka into the warm apartment.

The puzzle is back out on the table, a couple of dvds stacked up on the kotatsu for her to pick through. In the oven there's something baking. Tsubaki's rounding Angela up to wash her hands of dough and licked clean bowls. Maka sits at the table numbly, the pieces exactly like she left it. Even at her lowest, she can't stop herself from hunting and pecking. When Tsubaki greets her, she croaks out a simple greeting, then continues to hide behind a monotonous task.

"Why are you doing this?" Maka finally asks him. There'd been plenty of time for him to find an excuse to leave, but he's still here, digging through the pile with her, all but guaranteeing Angela will gain full control of the tv. 

"Haven't you heard? I'm an asshole." That gets her to laugh, if only just a little. "It's not the first time you didn't listen to me, won't be the last." Maka Albarn always has to be the smartest person in the room after all. "Besides, it's sort of my fault, ain't it? Really botched the Maka Defense Squad oath, haven't I?"

"That old thing?" she groans. The last time anyone had brought that up was when she was six and was having issues making friends in school. The 'squad' consisted of her dad, her stuffed cat, and Black Star threatening to beat people up for her. "You've already beaten yourself up for a lifetime." She points a puzzle piece at him accusingly. "And don't go starting fights with Soul," her voice cracks, "he's been so worried no one will want to hang out with him now that he's a death scythe."

"Of course he would." He refuses to agree, if nothing else, because the night's not over yet. She's still trying to keep herself together, and if she can't walk out of the apartment with some sort of smile on her face, he's going to be pissed at someone. Soul's still on the roulette wheel until he has the full story. 

Tsubaki joins them at the table, hunting and pecking. The first few chords from the Littlest Angel start to play, but they let her have it with a warning that it'll get turned off after the cookies are done. The sakura blossoms slowly growing as each piece is snapped together in pink, jagged clouds.

"Do you like charms?" Tsubaki asks. The necklace still hangs around Maka's neck, slowly, the weight of it more bearable. She just couldn't bring herself to take it off, not yet. "This last time, we were struggling to figure out what to get you," she continues despite the looks of silent panic coming from Black Star, "if you like that sort of thing, we can get you more for Christmas."

"I'd like that," Maka says. "Everyone usually gets me books. I only have so much shelf space now." 

"See, I told you," Black Star shoots back. "Now we just gotta get the memo to Kid. When I got out of the hospital, he gave us a dust pan." In Kid's defense, it was getting used, but it was the principal of the thing. Without direct instruction, the young god would procure the most boring, practical object he could find. "We should host Christmas here this year, I think we're the only one who has a yard."

"I'm pretty sure Kid does," Maka says.

"That lawn is basically a football field. I may be doing better, but he can bring his ass out of the catacombs to see us for a change." Even though the parties in the mansion were always well loved. "Maka I gotta have something to do, or I'm going to drive everyone around me crazy. The shifts at the cafe are like ground hogs day, it's the same tables to clean every day. I feel like the boringest person to ever live right now." It wasn't for a lack of trying. He was slowly gaining strength in his other hand, able to do more creative endeavors, but compared to the glory of being a meister it felt insignificant. "You gotta get back to work on that third star so I can live through you man, all Soul and Kid ever have are office stories and I live sitting around listening to people." 

"We think it'd be nice for everyone to get together outside of a school event," Tsubaki summarizes with a smile. "Last year was so hard on us, and we're not going to be in the same classes when the new semester starts up. Having something for all of us to look forward to seems like a good idea."

"It does." Maka can't remember the last time all of them were together in one place. Now, when she pictures Soul's graduation, she can't imagine what it'll look like. Will he be happy to see her, or is she doomed to be an uncomfortable reminder of a path he didn't walk down. Either way, she wants to mend that gap. Wants to hold onto her friends in a way that feels more permanent. "We should think about Thanksgiving too. You know Kid loves hosting stuff, he'll feel put out if we entirely took the reigns from him."

The idle chatter was doing wonders. With each, small, ordinary plan, her future seems less up in the air. An old, childhood dream of becoming a three star meister at a younger age than her mother getting dusted off and placed in the hole in her heart. She'll call Sid in the morning and take another look at potential weapon partners. That'll give her something to talk to Soul about when she sees him next, other than what feels like an embarrassing attempt to woo him. More immediately, when the cookies are done and cool enough to eat, she'll curl up next to Tsubaki and wash her hands of all thinking for the rest of the night. Thankful, that in all the chaos, there's something in her life that still feels like home.

By the end of the night, the last piece was put into the wooden frame.