THE MISSION IS THE LAST THING SHE WANTS TO TALK ABOUT. she can remember a time where pre - mission butterflies came from a place of excitement , impending the thrill of being one step closer to proving the world wrong. now sleepless nights are plagued by bitter echoes , memories of all recklessness and wrong - doing for every time she’s put him in danger. ( LET ME PROTECT YOU , EVEN IN WAYS YOU CANNOT SEE–––– ) and so she ignores his talk of missions and kishin and souls for now , resistance coming in a physical shift of the body ( of course , not enough to detangle limbs and lose the warmth just sitting in her bones –––– no , maka is far too stubborn to give this up after so masterfully finding her way into his hold without raising suspicion toward her motives for leaving her room in the first place ) . he must be punished for speaking so surely , a small struggle beneath the blankets as her hand creeps up the curve of his hip and plunges beneath his sweatshirt to press her ice - cold fingers against his abdomen ( against that DAMNED scar ) . yet the reoccurring guilt which reminders of his wound bring nor the facade of petty frustration is no match for the joy teasing him brings , both fleeting in the face of her sleepy bouts of giggles. “ who died and made you king of the couch? i’m not gonna fall asleep , soul–– i already said i’d get up when you did. ”
yet the drowsiness she so vehemently denies is apparent in the way she whines , as if she was still thirteen –––– like when they had met. ( what a funny thought , the ways in which time will take you. ) that day at the piano , the first time they’d spoke … she’d run all over campus looking for him upon word of a demon scythe , and so - foolishly neglected to realize things could end up like this. there’s that same old story , one she was too wise to ignore as she did now : A GIRL AND HER BELOVED SCYTHE. IT DOESN’T WORK OUT.
laughter can’t fend off guilt for too long , not after unconsciously making the choice to let her hand linger beneath his shirt and fingers dance across the rigid bumps of his scar. again she cozies into him , though with meekness unlike before –––– maka turns to face the tv and acts as if she’s watching , words muffled with her lips pressed against the fabric of his sweatshirt. “ i’m not worried , ” she lies , that same tired whine–––– “ i just don’t–––– i–––– we don’t know a lot about the guy we’re going after tomorrow , you know? he could be really strong , meanwhile you’re gonna be all tired out because you didn’t go to bed at a good time. ”
MAYBE THEY SHOULD KNOW BETTER , a story that she has lived through once unfolding even now [ when she looks at you , does she see her father ? does she feel that same anger when your eyes meet ? ] , the epilogue still unclear . their line has always been blurred , soft touches and hushed words in the light of the rising sun . and her fingers feel like his salvation , brushing against the part of himself that makes his stomach churn at the very thought of his failure but never when she’s around . she thinks you are strong , and she is the one who must work harder , do better , gain stregnth for you . perhaps this is all it will ever amount to , a harboured yearning from a boy who worships her as if she is the sun ( and you are the moon , never one without the other ) . he was right , she is cold , her touch against his flesh radiating across his limbs [ her punishment means little to him , as always ] . ❛❛ ‘ jeez , did you leave your window open ? you’ll catch a cold and black ☆ star would just love to steal this mission from us . ‘ ❜❜ concern is unfeigned , dripping from his words like honey . his reaction is almost automatic , flattening her hands against his chest with a quick movement of his own , holding her digits in place . be still , my beating heart .
HIS WARMTH IS KNOWN ONLY TO HER , facade crumbling even now . their masks are never off , still walking around each other with hidden intentions ; it’s their fatal flaw . ❛❛ ‘ come on , we’ve kicked so many kishin asses that this one won’t be any different . you sound worried so stop lying to me . ‘ ❜❜ boy in two acts : weapon / death scythe . he can almost taste it , goal so close that he can practically grab it , feel the power it brings ; but also the sadness , the knowledge of knowing that maka will not be his only meister anymore . but those thoughts can never come to light , he could never allow it . will he ever brave the consequences of revealing this to her , of the chance she will be disappointed in her partner ? and here soul and spirit are one , letting their own selfish desires surpass those of the women they love . ❛❛ ‘ i guess you’re right , i should get some sleep . ‘ ❜❜ how easily betrayed you are , yawn slipping easily from his lips , physique slumping even more as his cheek meets the crown of her head . how hard would you have to beg for this night to last forever ? ❛❛ ‘ you have to go first , i cant move until you do . ‘ ❜❜
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