A/N: I liked this one a little, this was a request for "I'm sorry" kiss. Contains spoilers for the manga

It's a brisk night, not too cold, but the gentle breeze flowing through the trees and over the grass is enough to send a shudder down Maka's spine. It's the kind of cold you could taste, sharp and metallic on her tongue each time her lips parted to take a breath. The grass is soft and springy beneath her and she can't help but tangle her fingers in the green blades. Above the trees, the grinning moon hangs high in the sky and casts a low light over the forest.

Crona sits beside her, watching as the stars flicker overhead in the sky. They're close, so close that their arm presses against Maka's and she can feel the steady thump-thumping over their pulse. It's the nicest sound she's ever heard.

She lets their fingers lace together and even though Crona doesn't turn to look at her, she can see the shy, soft smile that curls on their face. They look beautiful in this light, framed by wildflowers and illuminated by the moon. It makes Maka's chest twist and once again she's struck with how incredibly pretty Crona is. They're stunning.

She likes this look in their eyes, soft and smiling. The fight is all over and they're here with her and for once in their life, everything is alright.

None of this is real.

The forest is melting away, the shadows bleeding and blurring until they swirl in a sea of blackness, of black blood, around them. The moon is gone and all that's left is the two of them floating there in the painful nothingness. She knows this night.

Crona's looking at her now, holding her face and trailing their slim fingers across her jawbone. Even after all this time they still touch her with so gently that she has to lean into them to really feel them. This time she lifts her own hands and grabs their wrists, holding tight like they'll slip away into the blackness at any second. She knows they could.

She can see the hollows on their face and under their eyes and the way their bones press against the thin skin of their face. She let them get like this.

They both know what's coming. When Crona presses their head against Maka's all she can feel is the dull ache of the knowledge that she had been too late. Her grip tightens but she could already feel them slipping. She could remember in vivid detail the look in their eyes before they'd faded, and now she's seeing it again.

She still couldn't save them.

"I'm sorry."

Crona's lips are soft and dry and they taste like salt, then skin, then nothing and they're gone, leaving wisps of black between her fingers.

She wakes up.

It's a brisk night, not too cold, but the gentle breeze flowing through Maka's cracked window is enough to send a shudder down her spine. Her sheets are strewn about the bed and onto the floor, lying in a pale mess of fabric waves that could no longer shield her from the outside chill. The damp streaks on her face taste like salt. Outside, the black blood moon hangs high in the sky, casting a low light through the glass.