A.N.: For soma week day three - stuck in the rain.
((Does this story have a plot? Is it really going anywhere? Who knows! But I'm having fun anyway. Thanks for sticking around for so long, guys!))

Soul has always hated the rain.

It always made it harder to ride his bike, and he hated taking the bus or taxis. Public transport was never really something he enjoyed.

And yet here he was, crammed onto a bus downtown, stuffed between a near hundred year old woman and her groceries and a father with his screaming child. He was wet, suffocating, and way too tired for his own good.

Soul really, really hates the rain.

Maka had messaged him while he was at work, asking if maybe he wanted to go out for dinner tonight. Naturally he had agreed, going through the rest of his shift at the shop more excited than he'd been that morning. It made it easier to deal with everyone, knowing that Maka was at home waiting for him.

No amount of Maka in the world could help him now, though.

He grits his teeth, cursing himself for not charging his now-dead phone while he was at work. He lets his head fall back onto the window behind him, wishing he could listen to his music instead of the screaming toddler next to him. He practically flies off of the bus the second it reaches his stop, tripping over his own feet halfway down the aisle.

He's out on the street before the doors can close, running his hands through his hair and pulling his hood up to protect himself from the rain. He pulls the strings on his hood a bit, sighing to himself as he makes it to the steps of his apartment building.

He's busy thinking about places to take Maka out to dinner as he climbs the steps, digging through his pockets for his keys.

Maybe somewhere nice- or maybe we can just go somewhere casual. Is tonight significant? Am I forgetting an important date-?

His train of thought grinds to a halt as he realizes he can't find his keys.

He had grabbed them when he'd left this morning - he's sure of it. He retraces his steps, recalling his morning routine.

He had woken up, eaten breakfast, showered, gotten changed, grabbed his phone and a cup of coffee... And left.

And left his keys on the counter.

He hadn't even thought about it, too concerned with making sure he had enough money for bus fare. The keys to his bike were on the same ring as his house keys, and he hadn't taken his bike-

He lets his forehead fall onto the door, cursing to himself.

He's done it.

He's really done it.

He's achieved a new level of lame.

A part of him panics, thinking about Maka coming home, seeing him sitting on the steps of their apartments cold, wet and super un-cool. But a larger part of him just... doesn't care. He isn't surprised that this is the way things turned out, at the end of a day like today.

He takes a seat on the front steps, dropping his chin into his hand and watching people hurry past him on the street.

He really hates the rain.

He isn't sure how long it's been before Maka gets home, unable to tell the time since his phone is dead.

She finds him on the front steps, his hoodie soaking wet and his hair in his face, looking like he'd climbed out of a shower fully clothed.

"Makaaaaaa."

She stares at him for almost thirty seconds, mouth open and eyes wide.

"Soul?"

He looks up at her through his bangs. "I forgot my keys."

She's silent for another minute, looking him up and down with a look of pity that makes him squirm.

And then she laughs.

It's the most genuine thing Soul's heard in ages, loud and breathy and beautiful. She attempts to cover her mouth with her hands, but ends up giving up and doubling over, clutching at her sides.

Soul pouts, and Maka finally lets her laughter die down, taking deep breaths through her giggles. She makes her way up the steps, digging out her own keys and patting Soul's head.

"I'm sorry. You just look like a sad little puppy out here all alone. Let's get you inside and into dry clothes."

He nods, holding the back of her sweater as he follows her inside.

"The rain is stupid," Soul calls out to her from his blanket-cocoon on the couch, bundled in his favorite sweats and two sweatshirts, hair still dripping from the leftover rainwater.

He hears Maka hum from next to the stove, and she appears in the living rooma moment later with two cups of tea.

"I love it, so I can't say I agree."

Soul makes a face, "Seriously?"

"Yeah! It's my favorite type of weather."

"Why?"

Maka shrugs, falling onto the couch beside him and passing him a mug. "I have good memories of the rain."

Soul wraps half of his blanket around Maka, pulling her closer and smiling when she drapes her legs across his. "Like what?"

She rests her head on his shoulder, looking out the window to the right of them.

"When I was little, Mama used to say that the rain could wash away anything, even sadness. She used to wrap me up in a blanket just like this, and she'd carry me out onto the front porch to watch cars drive by.

"We would sit like that for hours, just her and I, talking and singing and reading books. Sometimes we'd just sit there in silence together, and we'd watch the rain as it fell. It was always so pretty, and the sound would help me fall asleep.

"Sometimes I would ask Mama about her Sentence, or about Papa's. I'd ask her how they met, if they were in love, if they were going to be together forever. She would always just go 'mmm. Forever is a very long time.' She would always smile and kiss my cheek, or change the subject completely. I think that should have probably been my first hint."

Maka's voice grows soft, and she shies into Soul's side a bit more. He wraps her tighter in their cocoon.

"When I was 11, I found out that Papa had been cheating on Mama. She had known for a while, too, I guess. I had never really noticed how sad she always was until after I found out. And then it all started piecing together. How distant she'd become, how much weight she'd lost, how much she and Papa had been arguing..."

She becomes quiet, and Soul wonders if she's finished before she starts speaking again.

"The only time Mama ever looked really happy was when we would watch the rain."

She takes a sip of her tea, still staring out the window.

"She left before I was 12. I woke up to a note on my bedside table and Papa crying in the living room. I think she went to Washington, or Oregon, or somewhere close to that.

"I was mad for a long time. At Papa, at Mama... I didn't speak to Papa for 3 and a half months. I didn't tell him I loved him for a little over a year. I'm still trying to forgive him, you know? It's hard. I'm still not fully there.

"I was mad at Mama, too, for leaving. And for not taking me with her. I'm still a bit upset, even now. She sends me postcards sometimes, if she goes somewhere new, or she'll let me know when she moves, like when she went to New York, but I hardly ever hear from her. So my memories are all I really have left.

"That, and the rain."

She finishes her story and sighs, turning back to face him. Tears sit along the rims of her eyes, and it takes everything Soul has not to kiss them away.

So he holds her instead, pulling her closer in their tiny cocoon of blankets, wishing more than anything to hide her away, protecting her from anything that may hurt her. He kisses the top of her head, and she smiles.

"I guess that's why I'm so hesitant. Feeling like you've been abandoned isn't exactly the best feeling." She laughs, but Soul doesn't. He looks at her, holding her face in his hands.

"I won't ever leave you, Maka."

Her smile becomes warm, soft, more genuine than it had been before, and she places her hands over Soul's own.

"Thank you."