The song The Language of Letting Go was written and performed by Amanda (sojustifiable on tumblr), so please be sure to listen to it when you read this chapter! Don't Write Me Off belongs to the movie Music & Lyrics.

Chapter 7: Don't Write Me Off

He had tried everything to get in contact with Maka short of sending smoke signals out of his apartment window.

Voicemails, texts, emails- each one was more pathetically apologetic than the next, starting from "Call me please" and careening down into "I am so, so, so, so sorry, I'm a huge dick and the worst person in the world." Each had gone unanswered, and eventually, Soul had to throw in the towel; he didn't want to bother her and make her hate him more than she already did.

Her disgust for him was well deserved. He had said something so appalling, said it completely out of spite, and Soul knew it would hurt her. It was a defense mechanism and a shitty one at that. Maka had been 100% right about his unwillingness to put his whole heart into his music because he was terrified of failure. The words had tumbled out of his mouth unbidden before he could think about the repercussions to his callousness and now he was paying the price. Maka wanted nothing to do with him and their song. Maka had called their relationship a mistake. Maka had completely washed her hands of him and he might never see her again.

Ironic, Soul thought as he burrowed deeper into his blanket cocoon on the couch. He had never understood all the goopy, cliché songs about heartbreak and loss… until now.

There was a hole in his heart that could only be filled with snack foods and so instead of frantically trying to finish the lyrics of Kim's song without Maka's help, he holed himself up in his apartment and ate with a vengeance. No food was safe from him. From frosting to ice cream to bagels to every candy on this God given earth, Soul devoured them all as he watched the Lifetime channel and wondered how his life had spiraled out of control so fast.

"Wow," Wes marveled as he opened the front door, uninvited as per usual, looking around at the carnage. "You've really fallen off the deep end, haven't you?" He picked up a Twinkie wrapper. "Good thing you have all these carbs to break your fall."

"Bite me."

Wes sat down next to him on the couch, clearing away the chip bags and cookie jar. "Talk to me."

Soul wrapped his blanket around himself more tightly, shielding himself from his brother's concerned look "Go away, Wes."

"Mom's worried about you. She said you're not picking up your phone. I'm worried about you, too."

He snorted and tore into a chocolate donut. Soul wasn't even hungry anymore - he was pretty sure he might throw up at any given moment, actually - but the familiar action of chewing and swallowing was comforting. "Oh, go fuck yourself, Wes. Like you're not getting off on all the publicity this break up's going to bring. Did you post it to Twitter yet or are you going to sell the story to the highest bidder?"

Wes look genuinely offended, hurt filling his perfect blue eyes. "I would never do that, Soul. You're my brother and I care about you. You know I only want you to be happy."

Oh, great. Now Soul felt like an even bigger asshole. All he knew how to do was upset people, apparently. He deserved all of this unhappiness and more. "Whatever. I just want to be alone."

"Sitting here and sulking isn't going to change anything." Wes put his arm around Soul, bringing him over to his side for a half-hug. Soul would never admit this to anyone, especially to his Wes, but the gesture was comforting. Even though he and Wes were as different as day and night, Soul still remembered how much he had worshipped his older brother in his youth, how his brother always doted on him, believed in him, kissed scraped knees, and protected him. Maybe it wouldn't be so terrible to depend on him, just this once. "Just give Maka a little time. She'll come around."

Soul sighed. "Yeah, but what if she doesn't?"

"Then we'll set you up with Mrs. Lowenstein's daughter. She's a cute redhead."

"Wes."

"I'm kidding," Wes said soothingly, pressing a fraternal kiss to Soul's forehead. Soul grumbled but didn't move away. "Maka will forgive you. You just need to show her that you're genuinely sorry."

God, was he sorry. He didn't know what he could do short of throwing himself at her mercy. Soul wasn't above begging for forgiveness but even that wasn't helping. "I really care about her, Wes."

Care about her was the understatement of the century. Soul was pretty sure Maka was someone he could easily fall in love with, and it both frightened and thrilled him. But now he would never get a chance to know for sure and it only made him want to devour an entire pizza and cry about it.

"I know. We'll figure something out, don't worry." Wes smiled. "You're a good person, Soul, and very deserving of her love. You two are good together and I'm sure everything will be fine."

"Wes?"

"Yes?"

"... I think I'm going to be sick."

"What I said wasn't that corny, was it?"

"N-no. Like legit sick."

Wes might have been a dramatic, flamboyant, pain in the ass, but he still sat in Soul's bathroom with him and rubbed his back as he threw up the contents of his stomach, and in that moment, Soul had never loved or appreciated his brother more.

"This can't be healthy."

Maka slammed her fingers down on her keyboard, typing furiously. Her friends from college had come to visit after getting her frantic, hysterical midnight text about hating men and running away to join a convent and swearing off love indefinitely. Crona sat on her right side, gently patting her shoulder every so often while Kid walked around the apartment, cleaning up stacks of paper and refolding her towels.

"What do you know?" Maka asked Kid. "You work with dead people all day. You don't have enough human contact to know what's healthy and what's not."

"How rude," Kid sniffed. "I am a funeral director, Maka. I speak with grieving families all the time."

"When was the last time you were even in a relationship with someone other than Mr. Clean?" Maka snapped.

Kid frowned as he picked up a wrinkled dish towel covered with a cheerful cherry pattern. "Probably around the same time you bought this hideous monstrosity from the bargain bin at the flea market."

"Elitist - !"

"Don't fight," Crona implored. "We're here to cheer Maka up."

Kid viciously threw the dish towel into the trash and folded his arms over his chest. Maka had to admit he cut a beautiful, intimidating figure in his black suit, but she wasn't about to back down. "I would love to do so if only she could tear herself away from spite-writing her outdated, ten-year-old fanfiction in a passive aggressive attempt to hurt Soul Evans."

Maka crashed her hand down on the enter key. "This is not passive aggressive, Kid. This is entirely aggressive." She shoved the laptop towards Crona. "Here. Write something so soul crushing, so heart breaking, that he drowns in an ocean of feelings and tears."

"Don't you dare," Kid warned.

Crona looked back and forth between their two friends. "I - I don't know if I should…"

"You absolutely should," Maka insisted. "I need your writing skills, Crona. No one writes dark things like you."

Crona blushed at the compliment and started slowly typing, just as Kid and Maka knew they would, because Crona loved Maka dearly and would probably walk over hot coals without hesitation if Maka asked them to. Maka tried not to take advantage, because Crona was a delicate and sensitive soul who needed to be protected, but now she needed them more than ever.

Revenge was best served cold in the form of a sad end to a story, after all.

Kid shook his head at Maka. He was looking at her like a disappointed parent and Maka had to admit, she felt a bit like a chastised child. "You're using your powers for evil, Maka, and I don't approve."

It was just so much easier to let herself be angry than to be sad. Maka knew that if she started crying again, she would never stop. She only shrugged at his words, trying not to let her friend see how much they affected her. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"You could just talk to him. I'm sure he didn't mean what he said."

Maka scowled at him, accusal dripping off of her in waves. "Of course. I knew you would stick up for your kind."

Kid paused in his cleaning of Maka's kitchen and judgmental but well meaning advice. "Catholics?"

"No!" Maka screamed and Crona jumped in surprise. Maka quickly lowered her voice, not wanting to startle her skittish friend further. "Men."

He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, rubbing away at the tension. "You know how unreasonable you sound, don't you? Despite what you may think, it's not ingrained in male DNA to ruin the lives of women."

"Tell that to my own father who dedicated a smutty romance novel to me."

Kid wasn't taking her snarky bait. "Maka. Don't you think - and bear with me here for a moment - that it's possible that part of the reason you're so upset with Soul is because there may be a little grain of truth in what he said to you?" he asked gently.

Maka gasped. Was Kid trying to imply that Maka had used Noah as some sort of Dad-figure stand-in during a time in her life when she desperately needed parental approval and involvement? That even though what Soul said was vile, the sentiment was 100% true? That even though she was perfectly entitled to her anger at him for the way he spoke to her, she might have been taking this too far and needed to forgive him? "That is absolutely - there is no way - how could you even -?"

Kid always did find a way to logic through her emotional outbursts. This was just like that time he had to talk her down from staging a protest in the quad after she found that many of her fellow students were underlining in library books. Her heart was in the right place, but Kid insisted there were better ways to get her message across than screaming, "HIGHLIGHTING IS MURDER!" at already stressed out coeds who literally couldn't care less about the abuse of textbooks.

Maka slumped over, shoulders hunching. Crona paused in their typing to pat Maka's shoulder again. "I hate you so much."

"No you don't."

"I know," Maka whined, "but why do you have to be so right? I don't need this in my life! Friends are supposed to appease you and tell you you're right even when you're wrong."

Kid laughed. "We both know that's not how it works."

"Urgh." Maka buried her face in Crona's bony shoulder. "Doesn't matter, anyway. I still think Soul has some lingering attachments to Britney Spears 2.0. I ended it before I got in too deep."

"You're a grown woman forcing your friend to ghostwrite a story on the internet in hopes that the person you're probably in love with will notice you," Kid pointed out. "I think you're way past 'too deep'."

"When you say it like that, it just sounds pathetic."

"Because it is. Come on, Crona. It's time for the grownups to go back to work." Kid snapped the laptop shut and shot Maka the mother of all disapproving looks. "I hope by the next time we speak, you'll have worked this all out."

She grumbled under her breath, mourning the loss of her ghostwriter, her pride, and her fallen dish towel.

With friends like these, who needed enemies?

When Soul was able to put down his family-sized bag of Oreos, turn off his breakup playlist (which mostly consisted of Air Supply's All Out of Love on constant loop), and haul himself out of bed, he decided that the only way to earn Maka's forgiveness was to put on his big boy pants and do what should have been done days ago.

Appealing to Kim's humanity wouldn't be an easy task. She wasn't a monster by any means, but she was territorial and selfish and stubborn. When things didn't go her way, heads rolled. Soul had learned this firsthand when he halfheartedly attempted a relationship with her. Most of her ire was well deserved; Kim was someone who survived on a diet of attention and adoration from her significant other. Soul had just sort of awkwardly co-existed alongside her for as long as he could stand because that was what he was supposed to do and, yeah, even he got lonely sometimes. It wasn't a fairytale romance by any means but at least it got Wes and Black*Star off of his back and thwarted any attempts to buy him nightly companions.

Both Kim and Soul were at fault for going into the relationship with ulterior motives but neither of them were particularly bad people - they just happened to be very, very bad for each other. Clearly, they needed significant others like Jackie and Maka to dilute all of their bitterness, as opposed to feeding off of each other's misery and amplifying it.

Dating Kim and consequently breaking up with her had been the easy part.

Trying to get her to change the song back to the way it was originally written? Now that was going to be a bitch.

Soul tried to summon up some of that Evans charm that Wes swore he had inside him. He would not, however, become a student of the Wes Evans School of Dealing With Problems because he had zero desire to bone his way to victory. Instead, he had brought Kim's favorite donut and coffee combination and was prepared to shamelessly beg, if need be.

Maka was worth the loss of dignity.

He found the singer in question in the studio, hunched over on a giant velvet couch, practically being swallowed up by a nightmare-ish canary-yellow chiffon dress with puffed sleeves. "Kim -"

Her painted lips were pouting at full force, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. Here we fucking go, Soul thought, feeling an ulcer coming on. He really should have been used to this by now. "Soul! Don't act like I'm some horrible person," she sniffled. "Jackie is so angry with me. She said it was my fault that you and Maka broke up!"

"I mean. It's kinda your fault," Soul said before he could stop himself.

Kim burst into tears. Real, ugly, mascara streaking tears accompanied by heaving sobs. Soul was supremely uncomfortable with the show of emotion and looked away. "I didn't mean to do that, okay?! It's just - augh - Maka is so cute and nice and such a good person, what if Jackie fell back in love with her? You never forget your first love!"

Although he and Jackie had never agreed on anything, Soul could certainly see why she might have a lingering attachment to Maka. The attraction to her wasn't instantaneous; there was no crack of thunder or arrow through his heart. It was more of a slow burn, like stepping into a lukewarm bath after coming in from a storm. Yeah, she was cute and her abs could make a grown man weep tears of joy, and he didn't want to sound like a corny Hallmark card, but her inner beauty was what really hooked him.

He just really loved a woman who would resort to murder and sabotage to win a competition, apparently.

"Don't cry," Soul sighed, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder. "Jackie is crazy about you. Look at how much she puts up with. If she didn't want to be with you, there's no way she'd stick around for this train wreck."

"That feels like a thinly veiled insult," Kim grumbled.

"It was meant to."

"This is exactly why I broke up with you. You have no delicacy. Well, that, and your mother is a nightmare." She wiped her face with the back of her hand, looking like a little raccoon with black streaks under her eyes. It was almost endearing, except Soul knew this raccoon was sneaky and potentially rabid. "I'm sorry, Soul. The original song was pretty good. That's the one I'm going to sing at the concert."

He grinned and raised his sleeve to swipe at the melted makeup on her face. "I bet if you showed a tenth of that sincerity to Jackie, she would forgive you."

Kim sighed. "Relationships are hard."

"Don't I know it. Haven't you read my autobiography: 'You're Gonna Die Alone Because You Don't Know How to People: The Soul Evans Story'?"

"Oh shut up, you know that's not going to happen." Kim rolled her eyes. "You've got that whole 'broody musician' thing going on. You're a hot commodity. Don't act like groupies aren't lining up around the block to throw their training bras at you."

He knew that in her own way, Kim was trying to cheer him up. She could be earnest, sweet… when she thought no one was looking. "Thanks, but there's only one A-cup in particular I'm interested in."

"Is Maka really angry?" she asked, having the decency to look the tiniest bit remorseful.

"She wrote a ten thousand word chapter to a decade-old story that I mentioned I liked, only to gruesomely kill off the main characters the second before they kissed for the first time," Soul said dryly. "She literally had Rider's face explode and the blood splattered all over Mika, who then got shot and her mangled corpse fell into the ocean. I think it's safe to say she's pretty pissed."

"Ouch." Kim winced.

"Yeah."

"You probably did something to deserve it, though."

"Yeah."

"... I know a good jeweler," Kim offered. "Men are disappointing but diamonds are a girl's best friend."

Soul sighed. "I don't think Maka's into that."

He paused.

"... but maybe text me that number, anyway. Just in case."

Maka had been kidnapped and was being held hostage by an ex-model and a stunt double.

Liz was much stronger than she looked, Maka thought, and when she whined this at the older woman, Liz only replied that she'd spent her younger days in a gang and learned a thing or two from street life. "Shit, if you want to see strong, you should meet my younger sister," she said as she threw Maka into the backseat of the car service unapologetically, only taking a moment to look down at her perfectly wrapped French silk nails to make sure none of them had broken. "She's a performance artist in SoHo but Patti doesn't fuck around."

Tsubaki only smiled as her wife strong armed Maka into the Lincoln. "We're doing this for your own good, Maka. You worked so hard to finish your song for Kim, you deserve to see the fruits of your labor."

Despite her annoyance, Maka had a flash of conscience and sent Kim the rest of the lyrics to The Language of Letting Go a couple of nights earlier. Soul had texted her to say thank you and Maka curtly replied you're welcome even though there was so much more she had wanted to say. She wanted to tell him that she forgave him and she hoped he could forgive her for ignoring him. She wanted to tell him that she only finished the lyrics for him because they had started this together and that's how she wanted to end it.

Most importantly, Maka wanted to tell him that she cared for him deeply, despite her best efforts not to, and maybe they could work this whole thing out. If he wanted.

But maybe he didn't want to and that was the part that was absolutely terrifying. Putting herself out there, being vulnerable - she was still gunshy after all that had happened to her, as hard as she had tried to be brave.

Which was exactly why she needed the push - both emotionally and physically - from Tsubaki and Liz to get to Kim's concert and potentially go face to the face with the object of her affections. She was sandwiched between them in the backseat of the car, probably because Liz didn't trust that Maka wouldn't try to open the door and roll into traffic, and to be honest, it was a little comforting to be surrounded by good people while she quietly panicked at the thought of having to listen to their song being butchered.

Maybe it was just business to music industry people like Kim and Soul, but the song was something that they created together, and Maka didn't know if she was ready to watch a trillion New Yorkers enjoy something that had been so bastardized.

"I really don't want to go in," Maka said for the six hundredth time. "Can I please just wait in the car?"

"Nope," Tsubaki and Liz said in unison.

Dread gathered in the pit of her stomach, nerves fluttering and buzzing as rowdy teenagers chatted and screamed for Kim to come on stage. The three women were close to the front, so much so that Kim's dancers were probably going to sweat on them, and there was no exit in sight. Tsubaki and Liz smartly sat on either side of her, so escape was doubly futile. Maka could only sink down in her seat, force back her tears, and try to make it through this concert without having some sort of emotional breakdown.

The lights dimmed.

It was time.

Kim was lowered onto the stage, encased in a in a diamond studded birdcage, and Maka had to admit she looked resplendent in a modest white dress. The girl did know how to make an entrance. As soon as she was safely on the ground, she burst out of the cage, ripped off the dress to reveal a very tiny black bodysuit underneath, and started dancing to her number one hit, Black Magic. As much as Maka wanted to dislike her, Kim was disgustingly talented and Maka begrudgingly respected that.

"Now to slow things down," Kim panted as soon as the song ended, "I'd like to sing a song that was written by two very talented people. People you all may know from a certain reality show - "

She couldn't do this, Maka thought as the crowd roared. She needed to get the hell out of there. Her fight or flight instinct was telling her that she either needed to jump on stage and deck Kim in her perfect face or climb over Liz and barrel through tweens to get to an exit before she cried or threw up or both.

"And one of those people has been kind enough to agree to my demands and help me entertain you beautiful, wonderful people!"

Liz dug her nails into Maka's arm nearly to the point of drawing blood as Soul walked on to the stage, making his way over to a grand piano. Tsubaki gasped out loud and Maka was completely glued to her seat, unable to breathe or think as she watched this scene unfold before her. All she could notice was that the terrible dance music that she had been dreading wasn't keying up. The background dancers had left the stage. All of the fire and special effects had been turned off. It was only Soul at the piano and Kim standing next to it, demurely holding her microphone.

The crowd was going wild. Despite his insistence that people neither liked nor remembered him, the concert goers were absolutely losing their shit over seeing Soul Evans return to the stage. NipNopz6969 was probably tweeting up a storm about it, Maka thought, blinking back her confusion.

The familiar tune of their song - the original piano intro - knocked Maka out of her reverie.

They were doing the original song.

They were doing their song.

"We met like a blank page meeting a paint brush

I said let's take it slow, never one to rush

Two weeks saw us on the beach in Mexico with no one around us

The stars turned circles around the skies

Then we flew back to New York for goodbyes

You said I had to learn the language of letting go, letting go

I need to know how to let go..."

Maka was completely frozen, overcome with so many conflicting emotions. She was proud that her lyrics were being heard. She was enchanted with Kim's sweet voice and Soul's beautiful piano. She was confused and angry that Soul pulled a fast one and was performing their song on a stage after they had already broken up. This was going to get her hopes up and make her expect things and Maka didn't know if she could take another disappointment.

"We spent just two months in reverie

Now you'll only be part of my memory

You said you wanted the stars from my eyes and I would give them to you

I thought those stars would see us through

But I don't really think you wanted them to

Now I have to learn the language of letting go, letting go

I'll never know how to let go…"

She had to get out of there and figure out what to do next, because jumping on stage to kick and then kiss Soul Evans for simultaneously being the most annoying and most lovable person she had ever known was not an option.

"We could have been everything

Everything that we wanted to be

But you caught me in a whirlwind storm

And shook me out back to sea

Two weeks saw me in Philly at the gallery

You showed me all your paintings of the galaxy

You asked me if I wanted to see you again

But I just shook my head

I'd put stars in your eyes if you let me

But now you're just gonna regret me."

Ignoring Tsubaki and Liz's protests, Maka climbed over seats and screaming high schoolers to get to the end of the row. She ran down the aisles and found the nearest exit, legs trembling so hard she was surprised she managed to get this far without falling on her face.

As she pushed open the heavy doors, only one thing managed to break through her muddled thoughts with stark clarity:

She was irrevocably, passionately, and stupidly in love with Soul Evans.

"'Cuz now I know the language of letting go, letting go

You should know how to let go…"

As soon as the song was done, Soul tore off the stage only to be intercepted by Wes, who was patiently waiting backstage.

"I don't have time for whatever it is you're scheming," Soul breathed. He was sweating and jittery from performing and all of the anxiety made him want to pass out. But he had seen Maka leave and all he knew was that he needed to go after her, come what may. "I have to - I don't even know what the fuck I have to do, but I can't stay here. I have to tell her how I feel because I can't lose her."

Wes handed him a towel and a bottle of water. He smiled that all-knowing, gentle Wes Evans smile. "I know, little brother. Leave it to me. I have people who can help."

She was practically bursting out of her skin as she paced around her apartment, nearly wearing holes in the cheap linoleum floors.

Soul was probably still at the concert and wouldn't answer his phone, Maka told herself, trying to calm her heart. Even if he did, what would she say? I'm in love with you?

"Yes," Maka said out loud, psyching herself up like she used to do before her lacrosse games in high school, "that's exactly what I'm going to say. If he doesn't feel the same way, that's - that's okay. But you can't back down now, Albarn. Not when you've come this far. Get your head in the game."

Her cellphone vibrated in her pocket and Maka was so startled that she let out an embarrassingly loud yelp. There was a text from Soul and for a second, Maka debated simply throwing her phone out the window because she wasn't sure if she could handle whatever it was he was going to tell her. Maka bravely pressed on and clicked it open.

fire escape.

"'Fire escape'?" Maka read out loud. "What is he talking about?"

When she didn't reply right away, another text came:

your fire escape, nerd

"Okay?" she asked her empty apartment and shuffled over towards her living room window, climbing out onto the fire escape. "But what -"

Across the street on the concrete steps of a public elementary school stood five familiar figures. Wes Evans held a bass guitar. Kilik Rung was on the drums. Black*Star and Harvar D. Eclair on guitar.

Soul Evans on keyboard.

"Oh my God," Maka whispered.

"Oh my GOD!" A girl in her twenties shrieked to her boyfriend, nearly shaking the poor guy into a coma. "Is that 2Kool4Skool?!"

What other surprises did Soul have in store for her? Maka wondered, hand over her mouth as she heard an unfamiliar song gear up as people started to crowd around, cellphones out to take pictures and videos and report on social media. How had he managed to get this together so quickly? And did he actually have a mic near his mouth, despite the fact that he hated to sing?

Was he seriously going to - ?

"It's never been easy for me

To find words to go along with a melody

But this time there's actually something on my mind

So please forgive these few brief awkward lines

Since I met you, my whole life has changed

It's not just my furniture you've rearranged

I was living in the past, but somehow you've brought me back

And I haven't felt like this since before Frankie said, 'Relax!'

And while I know, based on my track record,

I might not seem like the safest bet

All I'm asking you is don't write me off just yet."

She immediately started shimmying down her fire escape to the streets, pushing her way past the people who had gathered to watch the 2Kool4Skool reunion concert. Maka instinctively knew that Soul had written these lyrics - they were abysmal- and she couldn't stop smiling as he serenaded her in front of half of New York City.

These were his real feelings and he was willing to put himself out there to make sure that she knew.

He wasn't running this time and neither was she.

"For years I've been telling myself the same old story

That I'm happy to live off my so-called former glories

But you've given me a reason to take another chance

Now I need you, despite the fact that you've killed all my plants."

"Let it go…" Maka whispered, biting her lip to keep the tears from spilling over.

"And though I know, I've already blown more chances

Than anyone should ever get

All I'm asking you is don't write me off just yet..."

He wasn't the greatest singer, that much was for certain, and the band was obviously out of practice, but it was still the best song that Maka had ever heard.

"I wrote that," Soul said as the music died down and Maka slowly approached him. Despite the deafening screams of the people behind her calling for an encore, Maka could only see and hear him. "What'd you think?"

"Those lyrics are awful," Maka said, smiling.

"I know." He took her hand. "That's why I need you."

"You only need me for my lyrics?" she teased.

"And to kill the spiders in my apartment. But maybe also to rewrite that last chapter of your fanfic."

She laughed and squeezed his hand. "How did you even get all of this together - ?" In her peripheral view, she could see Wes beaming at them happily in between typing furiously on his phone. He was probably tweeting about 2Kool4Skool's secret performance, Maka thought wryly. Some things never changed. "Ah. Wes?"

"Wes," Soul affirmed.

Soul immediately blushed and hesitated, but Maka was tired of waiting and worrying and not being with him. She pulled him by his shirt and kissed him, ignoring the thunderous applause and slaps on the back and the telltale clicks of cellphone cameras going off.

Maka could only focus on Soul's breathing, the soft sounds of his lips on hers, and the steady, strong thrum of his heart.

And it was the most beautiful music she had ever heard.

Epilogue: You Got It (The Right Stuff)

"Oh man, listen to this one: Dear God, give us back Kurt Cobain and we'll give you SoulEvans."

Maka didn't even look up from her book. "Soul, get off of Twitter, you're distracting me. I'm trying to study here."

Soul snatched the book from her hands and flung it onto the bed. Maka gasped indignantly and tried to reach for it but he blocked her path, putting his arms around her waist. "You really don't have to study. No one actually studies for conversion. You go to a spa, promise you'll be a good Jew, and ask the rabbi a couple of times to let you into the club."

"That's definitely not how it works," she muttered but let herself be cradled to his chest. "How did you even get through your Bar Mitzvah when you can barely read Hebrew and never crack open a book?"

"Rabbi Shmuel Goldstein's Happenin' Haftorah on CD," Soul quipped and Maka pinched his side. "I'm an auditory learner, Maka, don't judge me." Maka pinched him again and he laughed, squirming away slightly. "You don't have to do this, you know. Go through all this trouble. I'm telling you, we can always elope."

Maka pressed her cheek to his shoulder happily. "You're worth it. Besides, your mother would have a coronary if we eloped. Do you really want her to die and have her spirit haunt you for the rest of your life?"

"God, that woman won't give me peace, even in death."

That earned him a third pinch. "Be nice, Soul."

"Nah," he said and leaned down to kiss her, "I've got that bad boy rep to protect."

Maka snorted but it was quickly muffled by his mouth on hers. "Speaking of your 'bad boy rep,' rumor on the internet is that 2Kool4Skool may be reuniting for a new album and tour. How do you plead?"

"I'm thinking about it," he admitted, "but I'm not sold on the idea. I kind of want to concentrate on writing music with you."

"You can do both," Maka insisted. "It's a good opportunity."

"You just want to see me in a full body denim jumpsuit like in that poster you used to have of me on your bedroom wall."

"Shut your face, Soul Evans!"

"That you used to kiss every night - "

"I am not marrying you, I am breaking up with you immediately -!"

"But now you can kiss me for real," he leered with a grin. "Every night if you want. If you're feeling adventurous, maybe even sometimes during the day."

"I'll think about it," Maka said primly.

He picked her up and dragged her to lie down on the bed, rolling all over her carefully drafted study notes. Maka protested half heartedly for a hot second but eventually flopped on top of him, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. "You're lucky you're cute, Soul."

Soul shrugged. "I'm cool with being the trophy husband."

"I love you," Maka said. He opened his mouth to respond in kind, but was interrupted by, "Even though you sabotaged me and poisoned my chicken."

Was he really going to subject himself to the next fifty or so years of torture with a woman who was going to bring up her tainted chicken every chance she got?

… yeah. He totally was.

"You're lucky you're cute," Soul mimicked and pulled her closer, no intention of ever letting go.