Disclaimer: Soul Eater does not belong to me. It belongs to Atsushi Ohkubo. I'm just having fun here!


A lightning bolt dashed its light across the sky, perfectly visible from the window in Soul and Maka's little abode in Death City. Meanwhile, the apartment's usual occupants were actually trying to race the storm home through the shadowy late-evening haze.

"It's starting," Soul said as he drove the motorcycle, rounding a corner a little too quickly for Maka's taste. She chose to ignore it.

"I do kind of like thunderstorms," she yelled instead over the noisy machine.

"Yeah, me too. But not usually from the outdoors."

He had to admit that the dry heat of the Nevada desert got tiresome now and then. Oh, he definitely enjoyed the typically-bright weather; being someone who liked to hang around outside, having rain all the time where he came from seriously cramped his style and frankly got pretty depressing. But a good storm now and then when it wasn't the norm was exciting.

"Oh! We should make tea for this and watch the storm - it'll be so cozy!" Maka said into his ear, eyes bright.

Soul wondered what it must be like to be so easily excited, and smirked. "Okay, sounds good - you're gonna make both of ours, though."

Maka stuck her tongue out even though he couldn't see it from where she sat behind him. A raindrop promptly fell on it.

"Aah!" she gasped in surprise.

He felt her startle against his back. "'Aah' what?" he asked, risking a glance backwards and wondering if he was going to have to spring into action.

"I felt a raindrop."

"What, that's it? And that scares you?" Okay, he would admit it. For the umpteenth time, in fact, he'd admit it, though only to himself. His meister happened to be sort of cute.

"No, idiot. I was just startled."


Sure enough, the rain was quickly beginning to fall at a greater and greater pace. The sky opened up as Soul and Maka approached their own neighborhood; the water created a noisy pattering on the rooftops and loud hissing on the ground. After what seemed like ages in such an overwhelming deluge, Soul finally brought the motorcycle to a stop at the apartment.

"Ugh, gross," Maka complained. She stepped gingerly off the bike, already soaked to the bone and weighed down by the water on her long jacket. "I hate having wet clothes."

But he was too far away to hear her. "Hurry up, you slowpoke," Soul called over the downpour. He waited until she reached the stairs, where he was already standing; he grabbed her hand and pulled her up after him as fast as possible.

Just to spite him for calling her a slowpoke, she overtook him on the stairs, then grabbed her key out of her pocket and unlocked the door all in one fluid motion. They both ran inside at the same time and stopped, trying to drip only on the doormat, as Soul slammed the door shut.

Thunder growled in the distance.

"Hey Blair!" Maka shouted. No answer. She glanced at the clock. "Blair's usually here at this time..."

"Must have left early for work to beat the rain."

"Wow, that's dedication." Maka rolled her eyes. Everyone knew what she thought of the cat-woman's occupation.

"Oh well. Time to get dry," Soul said, striding through sopping socks and jeans toward his room. "Don't forget to put milk in my tea!"

Maka ignored him and headed for her own room.

Lightning flashed dramatically and thunder rumbled again. She thought it might be a little closer, a little louder, but couldn't tell exactly. Nowhere on the horizon was there a lighter patch; clouds obscured the late-evening sky as far as the eye could see. What an impressive storm.

Last time they'd had any thunder at all was over a year ago. Classes had just finished that day, but the students had all been stuck at Shibusen for the duration of the storm, and Soul had complained about how bored he was while Maka tried to read a textbook. At the time she'd been very annoyed and clocked him over the head, but now the memory made her smile.

Maka found herself looking for an attractive but casual outfit, and realized vaguely that she was trying to impress Soul. That didn't make any sense, though. He'd already seen everything she owned.

Oh. Except this. It was just a black tank top, kind of boring, but she decided to wear it for the novelty. The shirt was covered with a large green soul-shaped symbol; Maka had bought it on a whim because it was inexpensive at the Death City Bazaar and Tsubaki said the soul on it matched her eyes.

Anyway, Maka had been slowly growing accustomed to her own wishes to impress her weapon. She was absolutely not the kind of person who needed validation from males for her sense of self-worth, and she had no plans to take this little crush anywhere since making any moves would jeopardize their partnership, and she didn't trust the whole concept surrounding romance as far as she could throw it, but-

As she thought, she sat down on her bed and let down her pigtails to dry her hair.

She felt a special connection to Soul. Obviously, this was a Meister-Weapon connection, but even as a regular human being he had been a complicated, ultimately pleasant surprise for Maka. When they first met she loved his song; in fact she desperately wanted to hear it again, all the time. She didn't usually understand music of that type, but she somehow knew this was the sound of his soul, and there was so much complexity, uniqueness, and nuance to it that she was just drawn to him.

Maka had also been delighted to learn of his inner caring side. For a while Maka had been concerned that her partner really was just some jerk she was now stuck with. He seemed to revel in annoying her, and he often encouraged Black*Star's obnoxious behavior, and he liked boobs too much, and he insulted her just for fun, and he cheated in school because he was too lazy to study, and he was a total cynic, and he enjoyed eating souls to a rather excessive degree (seriously, who eats anything that way?).

But the truth was that Soul was fiercely loyal - to Maka and his other friends as well. He'd volunteered to put himself in severe danger for them, and for her he'd come very close to dying. In fact, he'd made moves that could only be interpreted as suicidal to save her life. It's what a weapon is supposed to do, but in that case he was a pretty incredible weapon.

He was one of those strange guys who picked on people he liked. And she'd realized, probably after about two years of partnership, that half of the arguments the two of them had were based on him worrying about her. And his little gestures of concern, like making sure she had enough to eat when she was injured or trying to push her back into action after she'd been moping for too long - when she thought about it, even though his sarcastic tendencies were often completely maddening, they were kind of charming if she thought of them as a mask for his deeper emotions.

And he was always there for her. Maybe he was there and making complaining noises. Maybe he was sulking. Maybe he was questioning her judgment. Maybe he was even saying outright that he didn't want to be there. But he was still so steadily there. To be leaned on.

All right. Fine. She had feelings for Soul. The kind she'd once told herself she would not have. Through the blood, sweat, and tears, they'd snuck in anyway, and now she had to admit she really wanted something more from him.

Those feelings were irrelevant, though, because if life with Spirit and Kami had taught her one thing, it's that Meister-Weapon romances can quickly destroy partnerships. And if Maka had to choose a non-romantic partnership with Soul over losing him entirely someday, that's exactly what she'd do.


When Maka arrived back in the living room, two cups of tea steamed on the coffee table. Soul was reclining in his usual apron, looking just ridiculous enough to get Maka smiling.

Lightning flashed as Soul caught her eyes and shrugged. "You must really be a girl after all, then, because you took forever to get dressed. I was too thirsty to wait." He took a swig from his cup to punctuate that statement.

Maka strode past him to where her cup sat, bopping him lightly on the head with a book. "Thanks." She did not hit hard enough to make the tea spill, he noticed. It was already made as he knew she liked it - no milk, lots of sugar - and he'd put some cookies next to it, too.

It was pitch dark outside now; the sky was still wide open, and the thunder was definitely louder this time. Soul drained the rest of his drink and lazily spread out on one side of the couch to close his eyes and take a nap. Maka turned a lamp on so she could read, legs folded up at the other side of the couch. She took dainty sips from her cup.

Soul listened to the thunder and the occasional little sip from his partner.

"You're slurping," he said, opening one eye. She was reading Pride and Prejudice. He'd recognize that book anywhere because this was the millionth time she'd read it.

"Mmm." She did it again. "It's kind of satisfying, so you'll just have to deal with it."

Soul grunted and closed his eye again. He actually just enjoyed goading Maka because it was fun to do. He hadn't always had the insight to realize this about himself, but apparently Kid, Liz, and Tsubaki agreed that he often expressed affection by taking little jabs at people he wanted to connect with.

Kid had said Soul was "attention-seeking" in a matter-of-fact tone, but grinned subtly as he said it, as though the shinigami knew something Soul didn't.

Liz thought it was "Soul's cute little habit." He'd bristled at what sounded like a bit of condescension in her voice.

Tsubaki had hurriedly added, in her gentle and inoffensive manner, that it only made sense for someone as calm and cool as Soul to make jokes to connect with others.

At first, he hadn't exactly embraced their outlook on his emotions. After all, he was just cracking jokes about people. He did that about people he didn't like as much as people he did like, right? But as he spent more days thereafter teasing and poking fun at his closest friends - none moreso than his own partner - he realized that his sarcastic demeanor had two completely opposite functions. It both built walls around him and forged connections with others.

He did use his attitude to push people away. But in all honesty, it was basically a test to see who he would be safe around. Only people who were pretty cool would be able to hang around him if he didn't tiptoe around their feelings. Only people who could see nuance. Only people who genuinely liked Soul for Soul, and not for his family name or something else stupid.

And Maka was the epitome of the genuine friend, he thought as thunder reverberated again.

He'd learned about all of her family's dirty laundry within about two hours of becoming partners (not that she really had a choice in the matter, considering Spirit's behavior at that point). Through all their time together, and despite his teasing, she actually spent as little time as possible on boring girl crap like makeup and clothes. (She was what most guys would call "natural.") And even though Maka wasn't the greatest communicator, she didn't have any qualms about telling people what she really thought of them (and she'd emphasize it, if she saw fit, with the spine of a hardcover book).

Her crazy quirks had both irritated and fascinated Soul to begin with. He had been a bit disturbed to realize that he sort of enjoyed watching her freak out, even at him; was he some kind of masochist? But over the years, he'd noticed all her good qualities, too - the ones that made him respect her at first and feel truly at home with her later.

Maka was indeed smart. Book-smart, if a little short on common sense, he reminded himself fondly. But he also realized that she wasn't just some reservoir of information that happened to be on written exams. She was devoted and worked really hard to earn her grades. To be perfectly honest, Soul never thought most things about school were worth a damn, so his admiration was not about the academia itself - just how passionate she could be and how much control she could take of her own learning.

She was also incredibly compassionate. At first he'd thought it was just Maka being a softie "because she's a girl," but over time he realized she could have a rare level of empathy for others. She didn't always understand other people - in fact, he'd even say Maka was not always very good at seeing things from other people's points of view. But she wasn't the kind of person who needed to understand to care.

And if she did understand, as she had with Crona - well then. That person would have a friend for life.

Oh, yeah. Loyalty. Loyalty was another strong point for her.

Soul was just starting to realize that he had moved on to practically swooning over his boring, nerdy, bookworm, flat-chested meister when the loudest crash of thunder yet happened. It wasn't directly overhead, but it was close, and it shook the apartment.

The aforementioned courageous meister jumped at the sound, enough for Soul to notice from his end of the couch.

"Heh. You afraid?" he prodded.

"Nope. Just startled." She turned a page.

There was another bright flash, followed mere seconds later by a loud crash, and this time both partners jumped in their seats.

Then there was a high-pitched ping! as all the lights went off.

"Dammit," Maka growled. "Soul, do we have a flashlight?"

"Um...not that I know of."

"Okay. How about some candles, then?"

"None of those, either."

"Crap! How am I supposed to read my book? Can you just go check?"

"Maka, I'm absolutely sure we don't have any of those things."

"This is so stupid." Maka sniffed. "I was just at my favorite part, too."

"...It's just as much your fault as it is mine that we don't have a flashlight."

"Argh! Soul! I wasn't blaming you."

"Just making sure." He grinned, though she couldn't see it in the dark.


They sat in silence for a moment, steeling themselves for the next shockwave of thunder. Rain fell against the window, a roaring volley of wind and water which must have been coming down at an odd angle. None of the streetlights nearby were on, either, though there were some in the distance.

Maka pouted. "How long is this gonna last?"

She felt Soul shift down at the other end of the couch. "I don't know. Probably until the storm is over and they fix it, right?"

She sighed again in exasperation. "What am I gonna do now? I can't read without any light!"

"Haven't you read that book eighty times by now?"

Maka smiled despite herself. "Well, it's actually only been six. It'll be seven by the time I finish this round."

Soul snorted. "I don't even know how you can like reading so much. Especially the same book, over and over again..."

"Hey, it's classic literature. And...I like the story. Even if it's a little silly."

"The writing is all weird - I looked at a page once and couldn't understand half the things they were saying!"

"That's because it was written a long time ago. I like to try to understand it. I feel like I learn something new every time."

"Whatever floats your boat, bookworm." Thunder crashed. "Ah, maybe we should just go to sleep - I think this will be a long storm."

Maka puffed her cheeks out in annoyance. "Pfft! That's boring. And it's only nine o'clock. Let's just talk for a while. Want a cookie?"

"Nah, thanks."

"Suit yourself."

Maka felt the couch move as Soul shifted again. At least he didn't get up and leave - he had listened to her suggestion in his usual cool, indirect way. She smiled in the darkness.

If she would never initiate any undeniably romantic contact whatsoever, she could still try to get closer to her partner on an emotional level. And there was one thing he never talked about, even when she asked. Well, now he was cornered.

"Hey Soul."

"Yeah?" Cue another loud thunder crash.

"How come you never talk about your family?"

"...Because I don't want to." She could tell from his tone that he was already wary and annoyed.

"But why?" she pressed.

He sighed in exasperation. "Because they're in the past. I don't want anything to do with them anymore. I'm...my own person now."

Maka huffed. "Come on. I don't even know your real last name!"

"Eater is my last name, Maka."

"Come on, whose last name is really Eater, anyway? You must have had a different family name. It's really weird that I don't know it."

"That's because it's not my real last name. My last name is Eater." Both partners jumped as thunder struck directly overhead, nearly simultaneous with the lightning flash. But Maka would not be distracted.

"Soul. You can't help who your family is. I want to know for- for the sake of our partnership. Please."

"You're so nosy! It's none of your business!"

"I'm asking nicely!"

"And I'm nicely telling you 'no'!"

That almost sent Maka off the deep end. "You're not being nice! Come on! I feel like it's some huge gap between us. I feel like I know you so well, but then people ask me what your real last name is because they can tell that Eater isn't really it, and then I realize how little I actually know about you. It's disturbing. All our friends have either met their partners' families or just don't have families. You even know my family, or at least the ones around here. I don't hide things from you, Soul. But you hide really big parts of your past from me. It isn't fair. I feel like you're shutting me out on purpose." As she came to this sentence, she realized the implications of what she was saying and felt something like panic well up in her chest.

"I'm not. Maka, look. You've been inside my soul. How much 'closer' can you get? Why can't you respect that I just want to leave the past in the past and not let my family have anything to do with our partnership?"

"Why can't you respect that I just want to know something about the people who shaped you because...because I want to be closer to you?"

Soul was silent for a moment, and then said, as thunder crashed: "Oh man. Do I have to get up and hide from you in my room?"

Maka let this sink in. "Don't bother," she said, voice deadly quiet, and stood up to find her way to her own room.

Little did she know Soul's legs were stretched out, feet resting on the table, and as she tried to brush past him in an angry huff, her shins accidentally slammed into them and she tumbled head-first to the floor. The first thing she felt, even before the pain, was intense embarrassment.


The sound of one of the tea cups shattering reverberated with the storm. Soul sat in shocked silence for a few seconds, which felt like a miniature eternity. Then he leaned forward.

"Maka..." he said, hoping it sounded gentle. "Maka. Are you okay?"

He heard a sniffle, and his heart froze. Oh for Death's sake, he'd made his partner cry.

"I'm fine," she muttered, picking herself up off the floor. "That was so stupid. Good night."

She was going to leave, he realized, and as thunder struck again his hand grabbed for hers and miraculously found it in the darkness. He didn't have to pull hard to get her to stop moving.

"Soul...?"

"Maka. Please don't be so upset. You know I hate talking about my family. I've told you that ten times before."

He was answered by another sniffle, which made his heart twist in ways he hadn't previously thought possible. "I guess I really am pretty stupid," Maka said, voice monotone. "I'm supposed to be strong. And brave. People have said so all the time. But I can't even talk to my weapon and handle a simple fall without getting all choked up."

Soul silently yanked her back, hoping she'd take the cue to sit on the couch. But she didn't. She just stood there.

It was strange - his mind should have been on solving the problem at hand. But instead, his thoughts wandered to what she'd said about strength and bravery. The fact was that Maka was among the strongest and most courageous people he'd ever met. She didn't recognize it in herself.

Maybe it was because of her passion. Maka was a very emotional person, and the expression of emotion was often considered a weakness. Soul guiltily realized this was a perception he himself shared. But there was a kind of courage and strength that could be very emotional, too.

Maka was confusing courage with stoicism.

Stoicism was Soul's own way of dealing with his personal baggage. He didn't see anything wrong with it. But he had to admit - Maka really felt everything deeply. She had been hurt before, and she had her emotional scars from it. The courageous thing about her was that despite this, she never seemed to lose hope. When push came to shove, she'd choose fighting over quitting every single time.

And she was constantly reinventing and improving herself because of it.

"Hey, sit down," he said. As she did, another enormous crash of thunder sounded, and she thudded onto the couch with a little more force than she'd intended. Soul felt a tear drip onto his hand.

He didn't let go of hers. Because now he'd gone and done it. He'd tripped her (even though it was an accident) and made her hurt herself and then she'd started crying and it was entirely his fault. And even though she'd be fine regardless of what he did within an hour or so, you're not supposed to hurt your own meister.

"Maka," he said again. "Look. I don't like talking about my family for a lot of reasons. They're not cool people at all. Most of them don't even try to understand me. They're all a bunch of fakes. Nothing about them is really...real. And honestly..." He bit his lip. "I've always been really jealous of my brother. He's a much better musician than I am." More thunder. "And a nicer guy. I know it's pathetic. But I feel like as long as I'm even associated with them, I'll never get to be my own person. I'll always be their kid, his brother, the mediocre piano player who didn't quite live up to Mum and Dad's expectations."

Before Soul knew what was happening, Maka had thrown her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. "You're such an idiot!" she cried.

"I know," he answered (after a shocked, lengthy pause). "And that's not all. The problem is, if I stay with them, I'll ruin their precious family name."


Maka listened to the sound of Soul's voice rumbling in his chest. He had his hands awkwardly around her back. The thunder was muffled in the ear she had pressed against him. He smelled like clean laundry and whatever kind of shower gel was on sale this week. Her tears were drying out, and mainly Maka was feeling fascination.

Love. It wasn't a word she'd put much stock in. But she was starting to believe in it.

"It's not...that I hate them, exactly," Soul continued. "I mean, I wish them well and all. But I can't be one of them, and the only way to get away from them is to stop being involved with them, even in my thoughts. And even in my name. It'll be better for me, because I'll get to be a real person. And it will be better for them, because they won't have to deal with my problems and people won't wonder why they have one kid who's so strange. It's better if I define myself more by what I do- well, what we do here."

Maka's heart skipped a beat as she felt him lean down and rest his chin on her shoulder. He drew her into a tighter hug. She knew this was his apology for earlier.

"I'll tell you this, but I really don't wanna talk about it too much, so please quit asking now that I'm telling you this once. My family's name is Evans, okay? My brother's name is Wes, and I actually did tell you a while ago that he's a violinist. He's one of the best in the world. I hate being around him because honestly he's cooler than me in almost every way. My mother and father are insanely rich and really boring. They're not like your dad, they hardly ever act proud or even seem to want to see me. I do know they're good people, they're not really so bad, I guess. At least Wes turned out all right. But they don't really like what we do here, and they think I'm weird for being a weapon. I scare them. So they're better off without me."

Thunder crackled, built up, and boomed. It was still overhead, but starting to move away. "You ass," she whispered, clawing a little at the apron he hadn't taken off. "You could have just told me that and I'd never ask you again."

He poked her back playfully. "Well I didn't want to drag up all this dramatic crap, but someone had to go and fall on her face and make me feel like a jerk for not spilling."

"You can trust me not to tell anyone, too. I promise, Soul."

"I know, Maka. I trust you with a lot more than that every day."

Against her better judgment, Maka pushed herself into Soul, forcing him to lie back. Now they were lying on the couch, still wrapped together. He didn't resist, so she smiled broadly, letting her lips brush against the fabric of his shirt and the apron.

It sated her urge to kiss him. Which, she reminded herself (though rather hazily), she couldn't do because it would be very awkward.

She could hear Soul's heartbeat. As she thought about it, she couldn't really tell whether it was pumping with nervous speed or not; Maka didn't know how fast hearts were supposed to sound. She felt a little thrill well up in her chest when she thought about the idea that he might be enjoying this. She pushed more against his chest as the two settled into a comfortable position.

Their souls thrummed along in harmony. She just concentrated on what it felt like to hold her sarcastic, lazy, loyal best friend in human form for a change.


Soul wondered if Maka noticed how fast his heart was racing.

They were...oh Death, they were going to cuddle. He had a kind of defensive impulse to resist at first. This was dangerous. But as he fell back, he realized that he didn't absolutely have to kiss the top of her head, because he had really good self-control. Maybe it wasn't so dangerous after all. He just let his face rest against her hair, which smelled like some kind of girly herbal-fruity-flowery shampoo.

As they listened to the storm for a few minutes, Soul started to realize that this was the beginning of something for him. He wasn't going to be able to believe himself any more when he insisted that she held absolutely zero physical attractiveness for him.

"Well, maybe we can talk about something less serious now," Maka said from underneath his chin.

"Heh, okay. How about the fact that you still didn't finish your tea and now I think you spilled it all over the floor?"

Soul could practically sense her rolling eyes in the dark.

"How about what we saw earlier tonight with Tsubaki and Black*Star," she suggested. Speaking of Meister-Weapon relationships...

"Gossip isn't cool, Maka," Soul said, mustering up his most disapproving tone.

"Oh come on! It's not gossip if I'm talking to you!"

"Fine. What did we see?"

"You know what we saw! They were holding hands. For like two hours. And Tsubaki was resting her head against his shoulder-"

Soul decided to play stupid. "Yeah, so?"

"It... they... oh come on!" Maka said, catching on to his game. "Do I have to draw you a picture?"

"Please don't. You're terrible at drawing."

"The point is, I think they're in love."

"Yeah, I think so too," he managed to say smoothly and coolly. "But Black*Star's stupid, so I think it will take a while to see any results, if you know what I mean." As Maka giggled, Soul felt her warmth move against his body, and had to stifle a very natural but very inappropriate biological reaction. It was like somebody was striking a match deep in his guts.

"But you know," Maka said, returning to seriousness way too soon, "I'd worry about that. I'm afraid it will mess up their partnership. It's fun to watch, but I don't think it's very smart..." she trailed off.

"Oh come on. Stop worrying," Soul said. "They're both gonna be fine."

"I don't know. Look at what happened to my parents."

Soul sensed that this would not be the best time to bring up that what they were doing was also awfully suggestive of romance. Instead he remained silent and closed his eyes, getting ready to nap like the lazy bum he was and enjoying his meister's closeness.

"Mm, I know," he said. "But Black*Star and Tsubaki are pretty different from your parents. They might be okay."

"I hope so," she said.

It had never occurred to him before that this could be so nice. He hadn't thought of himself as a touchy-feely guy, but having Maka all close like this was...perfection. He allowed himself to squeeze her a little, relishing how his feisty, fiery little meister felt wrapped up in his arms. He focused on how warm she was, how soft, how much presence she had, how good she smelled (like an idiot in a romance novel that she had probably read), on her petite little chest pressed up against him...

Oh, if anyone asked, he did not just think of any parts of her anatomy as "fun-sized."


The pair did indeed fall asleep as the thunder receded into the distance.

Around 3 AM, all the lights that had gone off suddenly turned on again with another ping! sound. Their eyes shot open, and in a sleepy haze saw that they were still snuggling.

Both blushed very noticeably and sat up simultaneously.

"Well that was a cool storm," Soul said. Anything to break this awkwardness.

"Yeah, it was," Maka agreed. "It was right overhead. Thanks for keeping me company, Soul!"

"Hey, no problem. Too bad your boring book didn't work out and you have tea to clean up."

"Shut up, Soul." But Maka was smiling. "I'm...I'm sorry if I pushed you too much. To talk about your family."

Soul shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I guess I knew it was bugging you for a long time."

There was a pause. And then at the same time, they both said:

"Well, we should head to bed..."


Before drifting off to sleep for the second time that night, Maka wrote something short in the little poetry journal she kept tucked among her other favorite books.

It wasn't a good poem. She wasn't even sure if it really counted as a poem; it was more like a note to Soul or a diary entry. But it's not as if she was planning for anyone else's eyes to see it anyway, and this was one of those rare moments when her writing was inspired by happiness. It was usually meant for venting sadness or anger.

But all the thoughts were pouring out in such a quick, cheerful stream of consciousness that it would just be too bad to waste them. After all, she would like to remember this night.

We've both said we like thunder.

I wonder if there's more to it

than just how pretty the lightning is.

Maybe it's like us somehow.

Watching a storm...it feels similar to

the thrill we feel in a battle.

Except we get to sit back and relax

instead of fighting, so it's cozy too.

Haha. I guess it's also kind of like when we argue, right?

Sometimes

doing that with you can be fun. Like watching thunder.

...Anyway, it also reminds me of our soul resonance,

the electrical feeling like lightning connecting us

and the sensation of the thunder's sound waves

echoing right through our chests.

Maka groaned and slammed the book shut before she could write anything cheesier. If Soul found this crap, she'd never live it down.


A/N: Thank you so much for reading...this has been my first published fanfic in a really long time, and if anyone out there enjoyed it I'm absolutely thrilled.