Sin Like an Angel
by. Poisoned Scarlet

Summary:"People move on. It's human nature, Maka, but don't think that they forget." Maka doesn't know how to handle her mama's remarriage. Thankfully, Soul does.
Rating: K+.
Genre: Romance/Hurt/Comfort.
Pairings: Maka/Soul; Kami/OC.
Authors Note: An idea brought up by staring at Gatorade bottles far too long when boredom strikes. I kinda dislike how I skipped a few scenes but if I hadn't, it would have ruined the overall flow of the story. I wanted to focus more on the important aspects of this trail not the minor details – sorry! I did add some comic relief, though! Er, kinda...
Story Notes: Post-Soul Eater anime.

Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.

She drops the letter that came in the mail that evening, unable to sort out the mix feelings that churn inside of her. She has read the letter three times now and wills the words to rearrange on the paper and lie to her but, just like the last three times, the words do not change their order and she feels that twist in her heart again.

"...Maka, I have fantastic news: I'm getting married again! I know it's short-notice but I know you'll love him! He's definitely better than that poor-excuse for your father, that's for sure! I can't wait until you meet him – he's perfect!"

She doesn't understand why she feels so dumbstruck. It was inevitable, really: her parents were both young and still had enough rounds in them for another go. But Maka cannot restrain the burst of betrayal; the burst of pain and realization and sorrow that her precious mama (her strong, determined, mama with the angelic smile and fiery eyes) has already gotten over her papa (the man who still mourns their separation, whom she has discovered he hides it by hanging around cabarets and drinking and goofy smiles and fake laughs) so quickly.

It has been a year, she reasons to herself, certainly that is enough time to sort out your feelings and consider moving on? Somehow, Maka knows this to be untrue, because she is certain that if Soul ever left her for another meister she would not be able to sew up the wound he'd inflict in her heart in such little time.

"...he's perfect."

"...better than that poor-excuse for your father..."

"...you'll love him!"

She feels like Crona in those crucial seconds; not knowing how to deal with it, not knowing whether to run or hide, stand or charge, whimper or cry, and she utterly hates it. She thinks that she is one step closer to understanding the disturbed orphan with the tragic childhood...

"Hey, Maka, so what's up?" His lazy drawl snaps her out of her daze. "Your mom say anything about where she's at this time?"

"Ah, no." Maka shakes her head. "But I think she's somewhere out by the Caribbean." She fidgets with the postcard, still blown away by the few words that have changed her entire perspective on things.

"Caribbean, huh? Cool. I hear the beaches are awesome over there." Soul comments casually, about to ask of her well-being when he notices Maka's strangely still form. He is not blind to her evasive actions: he can still see the frozen disbelief that is written all over her face, partially obscured by her loose hair, and automatically assumes the worst just because Maka didn't freak out about menial things. "Is something the matter?" He asks carefully. "Maka?"

"No...nothing's wrong." Maka answers demurely, not attempting to meet his hard gaze at all. "Everything's just fine. Mama—she's great." Her fingers threaten to crumple the postcard. It does not go unnoticed by Soul. "She invited us to her wedding."

Soul breath hitches.

"I think we should both go, what do you think?" Maka continues, eyes transfixed on the floorboards. "You can wear that suit you bought for the Shibusen Winter Ball last year and I'll probably have my own dress picked out by mama. She's making me her ring girl, you see, even though I'm too old for that and—" Her voice cracks, sight becoming a blur of colors. "—we could probably invite Tsubaki and Black Star, too, if they want to come. Maybe even—even Kid and Liz and Patty—!" She grinds her teeth, struggling to contain the slew of emotions that is slowly but surely undoing her. "—You guys have never met mama, huh? She'll be so happy to know I have such good frie—such good friends—!"

An arm is thrown around her shoulders and his voice takes on a rare gentle note. "It's okay, Maka. It'll be alright." She has crushed the postcard in her palm now and she can't hold back her tears if he's being so sweet like this; it only adds insult to injury because Soul is far from perfect and it reminds her of her papa, who probably has no idea of what has just happened. Who is probably just drinking with his favourite cabaret girls in ignorant bliss while she feels like her heart has been ripped out of her chest.

She...doesn't know how to deal with this – she really doesn't.

"So, who's the lucky bastard?"

Maka's legs buckle and she clutches onto Soul, crying into his chest in a rare moment of vulnerability; his gem eyes gazing solemnly at the floorboards while his meister sobs her heart out in his arms.

The thing about becoming accustomed to each others Soul Wavelengths is that when either Weapon or Meister experiences intense, emotionally-charged, flares within themselves, the Weapon or Meister, whichever one was experiencing such flare-ups, tended to feel the exact same emotions only to a much more weaker extent.

But it doesn't matter if he can't feel the entire impact of the news.

He feels the betrayal and sorrow all the same.

It turns out Maka was right: her mama had picked out her dress and hair-do and accessories all beforehand. In a simple, wine red, halter dress with black strap shoes with a decent amount of heel – her hair curled and cascading down her shoulders in a way that makes her seem more childish than adult-like – her emerald eyes bright because of the makeup but to him excessively dull – and the way her smile looks so fake and laugh so feigned yet so real to others – she is the perfect hostess in a place where everyone thrived on conversation.

But he just wants to leave.

He knows Maka is only enduring this for her mama and that is the only reason he has not turn heel and headed towards his bike.

Soul messes with the collar of his dark red shirt, not used to the suffocating garment, as he stands detached from everyone else; the extravagant ballroom that once served as a dinning hall for the rich and wealthy now converted into a reception hall for the lucky couple.

Black Star and Tsubaki stand, as expected, in the center of the room – the conceited assassin causing a ruckus and prompting security to take charge although, he notices with some amusement, Maka is there instantly to send the security men back to their posts with a firm glare.

"Black Star! Could you try to not hog all the attention for this one night? It's my mother's wedding! It's her day, not yours!"

"What're you blabbering about, Maka? It's always about me, Black Star! I don't give a crap if it's Lord Death's wedding – one day, I'll own this building, so that means its just like my house and I can do whatever the hell I want in my house!" Black Star proudly states. "So, don't you forget it!"

"You're unbelievable!" Maka snarls, the boy merely grinning at her irritation. "You can't even do this one thing for my mama! It wouldn't kill you to shut up for a few hours, you know!"

"Who cares? I don't even know your mom!" Black Star scoffs, Maka's eyes flashing with rage.

"Um, Black Star, why don't we just go to the buffet table?" Tsubaki, ever the peaceful soul, tries to calm the crackling tension she feels between them; the way Maka's eyes have become dark and hostile and Black Star's grin has edged with sarcasm and crude humor. "We're really sorry for the disturbance, Maka! I'll try to keep Black Star from ruining your mom's big day, I promise!" Tsubaki bows formally.

"It's just a wedding! Jeez, why do people always gotta' make a big deal about these things?" Black Star huffs, traversing over to the buffet table with a jumble of curses under his breath; hollering in glee when he notices that his favourite plate is on display on a fancy platter, anger seemingly forgotten for the moment.

Soul restrains a sigh when Tsubaki apologizes once more, Maka pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance, and hurries off after Black Star; the poor girl trying her to best to keep her partner's outrageous behavior under wraps.

At least there is some normalcy in the otherwise uptight celebration.

"Fancy party, wouldn't you say?"

Soul smirks when he recognizes the smooth voice. "I didn't think you'd be able to come, with what all your important Death God business and all."

Death the Kid, dressed down in an ironic pure white suit, merely scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous – Maka is a close friend of mine. Of course I'd attend the marriage ceremony of her mother!"

"Whatever, Kid. Glad you were able to make it!" Soul sincerely says, as the man beside him admires the perfect symmetry of the banquet hall.

"All of this symmetry... it's suburb! Simply marvelous – Maka's mother has absolutely perfect taste!" His eyes shine, as he drools over the way the tables are all symmetrically set; the balloons all in equal pairs; the cake a spectacular representation of how perfection should be.

"There he goes again," an annoyed voice sighs behind Kid. Soul turns to see Liz and Patty coming up towards them, the eldest dressed in a rogue red cocktail dress with strikingly high heels and the younger in a similar outfit – although less elegant with the way she walked, like she was skipping, and the wide grin that curves on her mouth childishly. "Seriously, Kid, you better not spend the entire party admiring the decorations! It'd be such a waste!"

"Hiya-ha-ha!" Patty laughs, clapping her hands playfully. "Look at all the pretty twirlies! They're so cute, don't you think so, Kid?"

"Yes, suburb indeed..." He absently murmurs, still taken by the decorations.

"Jeez, you guys are impossible." Soul sighs, wry smile on his face. "Glad you could make it, though."

"Are you kidding me? You expected us not to come?" Liz scoffs, tossing her curled hair over her shoulder with a huff. "We've only heard rumors of Maka's mother – we both came here to check it out for ourselves!" Liz grins. "So far, so good, right Patty?"

"Yep! Yep! So far, so good!" Patty echoes, happily.

Soul just pulls on a lazy grin. "Well, just try not to get too wasted, alright, Liz?"

Liz smiles deviously as she begins to walk toward a waiter, eying the glass of champagne. "No promises there, Soul."

"Ooh! Lookie! Lookie, sissy! FOOD!" Patty darts away from her sister, coming up beside Black Star and scaring the living daylights out of the boy with her loud "HI!" before devouring the scrumptious food.

Liz downs a glass of champagne with something close to pleasure.

Kid is still in a stupor because of all the symmetry...

"Maka's gonna' kill me when she finds out Liz got wasted." Soul mutters to himself, knowing that Liz and alcohol did not mix well. He only hopes she's too distracted to notice the woman's wild antics once the wine kicks in. He hopes that by then Kid would have gotten over the symmetry of the room enough to control his weapon...

The party barely started, too. We've still got another five hours to go! He adjusts his suits jacket absently, eyes straying towards the last place he saw Maka. She is no longer there and he isn't very surprised – she seems to be the host of the entire thing, by the way she was floating around greeting people left to right. But he know's she's only doing this for her mother and he reminds himself that it will all be over soon enough.

If she has to endure this torture, he will also; because he was going to be there for her step by step – no matter how much he wishes to be outside, hidden under layers of shadows, isolated from the crowd, wishing for a cigarette or something cool like that...

Kami Albarn – or now known as Kami Wilson – bears a striking resemblance to Maka. He had been surprised when she walked down the isle because of how much they looked alike. She has large, deep emerald, eyes and her hair is a deeper, more auburn, blonde than her daughters although cut in a short bob that merely enhances her large eyes. Surprisingly, her body is definitely more filled out than Maka's although Soul reminds himself that childbirth did either wonders or horrors to a woman's body...

Their attitudes were similar but Soul saw the differences instantly. Kami is rather strict and severe while Maka has become easy going and cool because of, he admits it, his own influence. The older woman has a kind streak to those she likes, that much is evident, but a mean streak to those she didn't - a characteristic she shares with her daughter although Soul knew Maka would fake a smile to a person she didn't even like just to avoid unnecessary conflict and wasting words.

His meister was rather stuck up in that aspect – her intelligence, he means.

"Pardon me." Kami's voice rings from beside him. He automatically stiffens, eyes widening as he had believed her to be mingling with the other guests. "But are you Soul Eater?"

He turns, frantically remembering all the manners his family had taught him while growing up. He couldn't screw this up – there was way too much at stake and Maka was already sad. He didn't need to go adding to her stress. "Yes, that's me. I'm Maka's weapon partner, Soul Eater Evans. Pleasure to meet you." He inwardly winces at how stiff that sounds – he remembers when all of this formal stuff used to come out of his mouth so smoothly...

So not cool, he groans to himself.

Kami smiles widely. "Oh! It's great to finally meet you, Soul! Maka talks so highly about you when she replies to my letters!" She shakes his hand, brightly adding: "She tells me you're close to becoming a Death Scythe."

"Yeah, I am. We've got ninety five souls as of now." Soul grins, somewhat cocky about that subject. He would be able to become a Death Scythe soon enough – just like she promised him. "I just hope we don't have to start all over again..."

"Again?" Kami blinks.

"Yeah, Maka and I gathered our ninety-nine Kishin souls a long time ago." Soul explains, somewhat sheepishly. "But we accidentally mistook a magical cat for a witch so we had to start all over again."

"Oh, right!" Kami nods with pursed lips, still rather disappointed about that mistake. "I remember Maka mentioning that to me once! She didn't go into full detail, though..." She pouts.

Soul knows why. But he decides not to tell her. It isn't in his place to do so. "Maka talks about you all the time, too, you know."

"Really?" Kami perks up, eagerly asking: "What kinds of things does she say? I know I haven't been there for her as much as she wants – I feel bad leaving her in the hands of her stupid father but I have so many things I must do!" She sighs, forlornly.

Like travel? Yeah, 'cause traveling is more important than watching your own daughters growth. Soul thinks with hostility. His picturesque mask of coolness, however, does not waver in the least. He thinks its a good thing his family was so renowned and he had been able to master the art of pretension – even if he's still a little rusty. "She likes to talk to me about you in general. According to her, you kick ass wherever you visit." He dryly adds, her laugh causing him to smile a little. She really did remind him of Maka.

"I'm glad! I'm glad!" Kami chuckles. Some of her severe personality drips back into her face, smoothing it coolly. "But I must thank you for taking care of my daughter all these years. It didn't sit well with me to leave her alone for so long but she insisted... Maka is a strong girl." Her smile returns, kinder than before. "But she's still a girl, you get me?"

"Yeah." Soul feels a spark, that twitch in his soul that alerts him whenever Maka is close by, and he turns sharply to find her staring back at him with something close to pain. His expression blanks. "I do. If you excuse me, I have something I need to take care of. It was nice meeting you, Mrs. A—Wilson." He catches himself at the last moment – calling her Albarn would be awkward since it was no longer her surname.

"Oh, of course! It was nice meeting you, too, Soul! I hope you enjoy the rest of the party!" Kami says, taken aback by his suddenly frosty demeanor. She is about to walk back to her new husband when she see's the strange-looking, but handsome, boy walk up to Maka. Her mouth parts in surprise when he gently guides her through the throng of guests; her daughters expression hidden by him as they both walk out into one of the many balconies that lined either walls.

She watches the boy check both ways cautiously before shutting the balcony doors and thus all the footsteps and music and laughter and conversations with it.

"Maka..." Kami begins softly, to herself. She isn't ignorant to the distance; the way Maka hugs her but she still feels so far away. Perhaps parting from her had its negative long-term effects – Maka didn't really feel as close to her as she used to. "...Maka never told me she partnered with her weapon."

He sat in a fold-up chair by a round table, drowning in his own cloud of misery as a bubbling glass of champagne sat idly before him. His usually messy maroon hair was combed back neatly for the special occasion, dressed in a black tuxedo and shined dress shoes to match. But there was something missing from the assemble and Maka immediately knew it was his goofy smile and twinkling deep blue eyes,

He looked so miserable, siting there all lonely.

He looked so beaten, defeated.

He looked...so unlike the idiotic, exaggerated, papa she had come to love.

"Papa?" Maka whispered, coming to a stop by him.

Spirit looked up from his empty stare at the waxed floor below, surprised she had even approached him. "Maka? Hey! How are you?" Spirit forced a smile on his face, tone lacking its usual enthusiasm. "You must be so happy for your mama, huh? She finally found someone she could l—ove!"

Maka gazed solemnly at her papa. The waver wasn't missed by her. "Mmhmm. Mama—Mama finally moved on, huh?"

"Yeah." Spirit slumped in his chair. "She finally moved on." He laughed suddenly, shaking his head. "Isn't it kind of ironic? Me, the womanizing freak, unable to move on after all this time? She's always been so faithful to me yet I...always cheated on her." He sunk deeper into his chair. "I guess I got what I deserve, huh?"

Maka parted her lips, so many words at the tip of her tongue yet none made it out.

"I missed my chance..." Spirit mumbled, sadly. "I guess I deserved it."

"No, you don't." Maka interrupted his mournful rant. "You don't deserve it! It's—it is your fault but you're nothing like that phony guy she married today! Sure, you can be a total moron and your womanizing habits are disgusting but—you've always been a good person! You're funny and smart if you try and you're one of Lord Death's most powerful Death Scythes..." Maka shut her eyes, shuddering a breath. There were more things she wanted to say but her thoughts were too jumbled up. "You're the best papa I could've asked for – flaws and all! And no one, not even him, is going to take your place!"

Spirit stared at her in open shock. Despite the debilitating pain in his chest, his daughters inspiring words opened up a whole new perspective on the situation. He might be grieving the loss of his once-adored wife but he still had his strong-willed daughter. That would be enough, he decided.

Spirit smiled adoringly. "Thank you, Maka..."

Maka sniffled and looked away, trying to blink away her tears. "Y-yeah! You should be! This is the only, and I mean only, time I'll ever tell you this, okay? Don't expect me to say it again any time soon! Got it?" She wiped away her tears with the heel of her hand.

Spirit merely chuckled. If his only daughter could be this strong, then so could he. "Loud and clear, Maka... loud and clear..."

"It's over now, you know." Soul says, spoon hanging off the corner of his mouth. He licks the ice-cream clean off the metal, watching Maka pick at her own bowl full of the stuff with empty eyes. "It's been over for the past four hours."

"I know that."

"So?"

"So, what?" She stabs the spoon in the melting ice-cream.

Soul juggles the idea of being vague before shrugging. Being vague with Maka has never worked to his benefit. "When are you gonna' get over it?"

"It isn't that easy, Soul!" Maka sharply snaps, chair screeching back as she stands. "I can't just forget about what happened a few hours ago! It doesn't work that way!"

"I know that." Soul casually replies. He eats another mouthful of ice-cream. He knows he has to set her straight before she allows this to affect her more than it already has. "But you're going to have to accept the fact that your mom remarried and your dad is probably going to follow if he ever decides to get over himself." He slurps up a drizzle of vanilla that fell down the side of his lip. "That's the reality of the situation."

Maka stares at him for a second before sighing and sitting back down, slumping forward and resting her cheek against her palm in resignation. "I know, I know... Papa's probably thinking about it already. I think the only reason he didn't actually remarry was because he thought mama would come back to him." She snorts softly at the thought. "I guess it didn't work out that way for him, huh? Stupid papa..."

"Hey, can you blame the guy?" Soul smirks, snickering out: "She ain't half bad."

Maka wrinkles her nose. "Ew! Soul! That's gross! She's my mom!"

"I know, I know!" Soul laughs. "I was just kidding!" He finishes his bowl of ice-cream, leaning back in his chair. He stretches his arms over his head, cracking his bones in satisfaction. It felt great, to be out of that stuffy suit that always coerced him into putting up that fake, amiable, personality. "You gonna' finish that?"

"Nah." Maka slides the bowl over to him. He digs in immediately. "Hey, Soul?" Maka asks after a few seconds of nothing but his spoon clanking against glass.

"Yeah?"

"Do you... think it's easy?" She asks quietly, gazing down at the table thoughtfully. "To move on, I mean?"

Soul deliberates the question to himself as he eats the chocolate ice-cream. "No." He finally answers. "I don't think it's easy, but it all depends on the individual in the end. For example, your mom might be good at discarding past sentiments but your dad sure isn't – no matter how much of a pervy bastard he really is."

Maka feels the corners of her lips upturn in a smile at his last comment. "Good. Because I don't I'd be able to move on if I ever got married and had to divorce a couple of years later." She grimaces at the thought.

Soul watches her closely as he swallows some more of the cold treat. "Yeah, same here."

Maka giggles."But who'd want to marry you? She'd probably have nightmares about you eating her at night or something!" She pokes fun at his teeth, knowing he is slightly self-conscious about them; even if he doesn't show it.

Soul grins widely, showing off his sharp rows of teeth to her, the only person he ever felt comfortable doing this to. "Hey, these babies are only for soul eating – among other things," he adds suggestively, causing her to raise a coquettish brow.

"Oh? Like?"

His grin only grows wider at her playful tone – it has been far too long since they had engaged in this type of dangerous behavior and he loves every second of it.

"I dunno'." Soul shrugs, nonchalant. "You can say I actually do bite."

Maka laughs full-out and Soul relaxes in his chair, content he has been able to pull his precious meister out of the negative ball of energy she has nearly let overcome her once more.

"I'd like to see that one day!" Maka laughs.

Soul drops the spoon in his bowl and raises smoldering crimson eyes to her, huskily murmuring: "Would you, really?" He stands and she starts, stiffly watching him make his way to the sink where he dumps both bowls in and washes them over with some water before scrubbing them clean and placing them on the dish rack. "It's about to be five in the morning, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know..." Maka trails off, taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart. Whatever that had been, whatever thrilling emotion had flashed through those gorgeous crimson eyes of his, it was gone now; along with the sultry drawl of his words. She is glad for this – treading on dangerous grounds was always fun but she knew she would not be able to resist the allure of his charms if he decides teasing her longings would be fun. "I'm not sleepy. You?"

"Are you kidding me?" Soul yawns. "I could've gone to sleep hours ago!" He runs fingers through his messy hair. "You gonna' stay up reading a book or watching TV?"

"Hmm, TV."

"Keep it down then." He warns, walking forward to ruffle her hair affectionately. Maka grunts, shaking his hand away from her head with a pout. She can feel her face heat up all over again. "Don't stay up all night, alright, you bookworm? It's bad for you."

"It's already five am, Soul."

"So? I want you in bed by seven am!" He grins crookedly at her, ignoring her glare. "You have the day off tomorrow, anyway. It's Sunday. Take it easy."

"Got it. G'night, Soul." Maka mumbles back, breathing out a sigh of content when his hand continues to rest upon her head. Eventually, his hand glides down from the crown of her head and to her cheek, surprising her when his thumb strokes over the flushed skin. Her heart is threatening to leap out of her chest again as he leans down and breaths, right by her ear so only she can hear:

"People move on. It's human nature, Maka, but don't think that they forget. They never forget. They just accept." His hand slides off her cheek. "Night, Maka." And he retires to his bedroom, casting one last glance at the girl frozen by the dinning table before disappearing into his room for a few hours of sleep.

Despite the tangle of thoughts that threaten to consume her in their negativity, a warm smile appears on her face – not enough to stop the hot tears that trickle down her cheeks but enough to comfort her in this difficult chapter of her life as she etches his words into her heart.

Accept...but never forget.

She could deal with that.