MAKA'S POV

An hour had come to pass and it had finally lain off the rain and the cloud-cover opened up to a pastel sunset. Hues of pink and grey smudged across the sky, throwing rays of sunlight into the apartment.

Maka and Soul sat side-by-side in the couch cushions, comfortable in eachothers' presence.

With her head cradled in Soul's lap, Maka began to stir from her nap, blinking the sleep out of her eyes while avoiding the sharp, unexpected sun that burst through the window panes.

With a frown, Maka pulled her head away from the boy's legs and pushed her torso straight, stretching her palms to the ceiling which accompanied a yawn and the popping of her spine and shoulder blades. Stealing a glance to her human pillow, she found that he, too, was asleep. Soul's silvery-white hair laid messily over his eyes as he lay back in the chair. The tips of his bangs swayed as he breathed and a light, almost soundless snore came from the sleeping teenager.

Rolling her eyes at her companion, she snuck a peek at the clock that sat beneath the television screen before her.

6:32 PM

Getting up from the warm comfort of the couch and Soul's lap, Maka strode toward her room to pick out her black boots and a bright, neon green jacket.

Recollecting her thoughts, she began to consider her words to her father and how she'd confront his drunken self at home. Would he even be home, or would he be out at the bar with who knows how many prostitutes surrounding him and his bottle? Could she even look him in the face or bear to smell that rancid breath that stank of a mix of sour whisky, vodka or alcohol? Would Maka bear to have Soul there to accompany her, and to witness the wasted remains of her father?

She concluded that she'd just have to wing it; her thoughts were empty, but filled with unanswered questions that her own conscience didn't even want to face.

Glaring at her body in the mirror, she picked out each and every flaw in herself, criticizing herself once more before she snapped her attention away from her reflection, took her phone and left the room.

By the looks of it, Soul had begun to stir and seconds later a low yawn sounded from the den.

"Good morning Sleeping Beauty," Maka chimed in a sarcastic voice; her legs took her from room to room to use the restroom, throw away the old, used tea-lights on the coffee table and blow out the wicks of the thicker, lighted candles, watching cold, grey wisps of smoke trail and curl into the light above.

(SOUL'S POV)

(7:04 PM)

The sun was just peeking over the horizon, letting it's last, weak rays of light stretch out into the sky, molding colors of grey blend to mix hues of dull pink and lavender. Patches of dark clouds spotted the sky above and in the distance were lit-up storms concealing lightning and fear.

Soul pulled parked his side along the curb to Maka's household, but no movement was made beside him. The silence they'd given each other during the ride to the house wasn't unbearable, but that was when the car was running and the radio was playing music and occasionally warning the drastic chances of more rain to surely come their way. Now, with the car off and wind sighing against the windows of Soul's car, the silence was empty, and emptiness was a terrifying thing to feel.

Looking towards Maka, he opened his mouth to speak, but his conscience got the better of him, leaving his tongue mute.

What could he possibly say to muster confidence into Maka? Did he have any advice to face her father? No. He fled home as soon as he could, just so he wouldn't have to face the reality his own family and friends had given to him so long ago. He was a coward, even more so than this girl sitting speechless in the seat beside him.

He couldn't help but feel envy towards her bravery. Her father was a drunken, fool of a father who had no reason whatsoever to hold custody over her. From what stories he's heard from Maka, he'd suspect that he's of less use to her than common day trash.

But then again, Spirit had somewhat complimented him in the hallway of the apartments.

Fuck… I got nothing…

So he sat there, quietly and respectively allowing Maka to think things through until she shifted in her seat and sighed out, "I'm ready…"

Both anxious teenagers left the vehicle parked before Maka pulled out her keys and held them in her shaky hand. Seeing this, Soul grasped her trembling hands, breathing out encouraging words and, "remember, I'm here with you for a reason; I'll stick by your side until you tell me otherwise. You know yourself better than anyone else, so tell him—yell and go complete bat-shit if it'll make your point come across."

Happy to see a smile creeping onto Maka's face, he rubbed his thumbs over her fingers before letting them go and giving her a light kiss on the forehead.

Before he could think of any more encouraging words, Maka had already opened the door and stepped inside. Following closely behind, he let his eyes scan over the premises.

A small corridor branched led toward what seemed to be the Albarn's living room. A red leather couch and a matching recliner surrounded a coffee table and an old, box television with antennas. Occupying the far side of the sofa was Spirit, who was holding a single beer bottle.

Spirit's attention flickered from the soap opera to the pair who walked into the room, and before Soul could grasp more of his surroundings, Spirit stood up and shuffled over toward Maka with a large smile plastered on his face. His black attire was, for the most part, shapely and well-kept.

"Baby! I'm so sorry! Daddy is so sorry he hurt you. I'm so glad you're back home sweetie, so glad you've come back to me. You're back- Daddy is so sorry…"

Spirit went on like this for another five minutes, embracing his daughter who, surprisingly, did not react. In fact, she seemed to take in the hug and returned it with a gentle squeeze.

"I'm fine, Spirit. Spirit, you can stop… I know…"

Taking a step back from the intense, father-daughter moment, Soul let his eyes wander across the room to get a better understanding of Maka's everyday living.

He could smell damp alcohol in the air and a few candles were lit upand set on the table.

At least he's not drunk off his ass enough to forget that electricity hasn't been reliable these past few days. But then again… a drunken man with fire is NEVER a good idea…

Off to his left was another corridor that broke off to more rooms—most likely restrooms, bedrooms that belonged to Spirit and Maka, and perhaps an office. But this was not his home, so he stayed put, silent and respectful to the sentimental man and his suspicious daughter who seemed way too calm.

Soul was uneasy about Maka's approach to her father now. Only a few nights ago had she come running to Soul for an escape from the anger she had at her father. Why, now, does she seem forgiving towards this unworthy, disgusting father of hers?

"Let go of me," Maka muttered. No move was made for her, so she repeated herself again.

"Let go of me, Spirit."

For a third time, she spat out these words coldly, slipping out of her father's grasp and giving him a disappointed look. Her frown and the increasing shine in her eyes said it all; she was completely tired of her father's useless comfort.

Catching another glimpse at Spirit, he saw the grown man staring at Soul with hollow eyes; Soul glared back with a hint of pity that creased in his forehead. Soul shuffled uncomfortably and crossed his arms, avoiding eyes that bore into his face.

"Father…," out of the corner of Souls eye, he could see Maka cringe at the word before she continued in a rough tone, "I didn't come back for you, exactly. I'm quite surprised you aren't with some prostitute carrying an STD…"

Soul could feel the tension completely flow out. Maka's anger was like a shockwave, paralyzing everything and anything, and Soul was left speechless and wide-eyed.

"But don't mind me. You never mind me when you bring woman after woman home, always accompanied with liquor and alcohol of some sort. Don't mind my opinions stated tonight because I didn't come here to criticize you, Spirit."

Maka sucked in some air and held her breath for a second before choking out, "I'm here to apologize! I'm here so I can say sorry. I'm sorry you don't have the capability and morals to lead yourself through stressful situations- I'm sorry you let your fear swallow you up and influence you to drink. Because after all… holding a marriage is too difficult to handle for a middle-aged man like you. I'm sorry that I haven't left your sorry ass after you hurt me all those years ago… I'm sorry," Maka circled Spirit until her back was to the other hallway.

"…that I never noticed the signs when you began to drink. You and Mom NEVER got along and every time you argued… every night… it always got worse. Every night you'd either be gone doing whatever the hell you'd be doing, or you'd be getting yourself wasted, or you'd be fighting with Mom! I'm sorry that our family wasn't enough for you! I'm sorry my love wasn't enough to suffice you're so-called 'problems'…"

Maka fled down the hallway, encouraging her father to follow along before she yelled out, "I'm glad you're getting along just fine without me and Mom to check up on you. To feed you every weeknight."

Soul hurried down after the others into a room painted with pink and white floral designs on the wall. A small, twin bed sat in the corner with a large vanity beside it. Maka was pulling out a large suitcase out from under her bed and she set it upon her magenta comforter.

She spoke in a calmer voice, but it was terribly shaky and off-key.

Spirit clung to his daughter again, and Maka fought to get him off of her, but to her avail, he was too strong. Taking this as Soul's cue, he pulled the grown man off and angrily muttered, "get your hands off of her."

It wasn't much of a struggle to keep Spirit off of Maka, but damn, did he smell horrid. Vodka, beer and sweat radiated from the father, and he could understand a little why she was so embarrassed to be his biological daughter.

Soul's forehead creased and a frown came upon his lips while he stood protectively beside the girl whose hands were shaking again. Flipping his attention to Maka, he could see tears threatening to fall from the corners of her beautiful green eyes.

"I'm truly glad that you're happy with the live you're running now; whether it involve me or not isn't your choice because I'm leaving. I'm done with you and your endless bullshit. I'm tired of you and your drunkenness and the women and the bruises and the yelling and the smell… I'm glad Mom left you when she had the chance… now it's my turn…"

Narrowing his eyes, Soul flashed his eyes from Spirit, who stood with his mouth, gaping open and his bottle crashing to the floor. Silence filled the room as Maka went from her closet and dresser to her luggage bag, filling it with all sorts of clothes, hygiene necessities, personal and valuable treasures and electronics hidden away in drawers and at the top of her closet.

Within this time, Spirit struggled against Soul who was desperately trying to keep the man away from Maka. A murderous shine built in the tears of the man's eyes, and he began to cry out Maka's name.

He was both seething and hurt, and Soul could see this, but this didn't loosen his grip or make him pity him any less.

After a few more sluggish minutes had passed, Maka had zipped up the bag and left the room, hollering out, "c'mon Soul, were leaving. For good…"

Pushing Spirits heavy body off of him, he watched as Spirit fell to his knees, crying out Maka's name and began to crawl out the room. Stupid as that was, being there was shards of glass that glinted off the floorboards, Soul blocked the doorway and crouched down in front of the man. Again, he got the whiff of alcohol and body odor, but he shook this off and whispered, "Spirit, don't forget the words I said; she won't come back unless she feels the need to. And until then, I suggest you clean yourself up and pull yourself together. This is your daughter and she's leaving you; GET THAT INTO YOUR HEAD and let it sink in. Mr. Albarn, I will keep a close eye on your daughter, but don't EVER try to get your hands on her; I'll see to it that papers will be signed and a restraining order will be used at Maka's advantage. Being a drunken father is one thing. An abusive, ignorant father is another… goodnight, Mr. Albarn."

Soul stood up, and hurried back to Maka, who was putting her belongings into the trunk of his car. The rain had started up again, and the sun was long gone, leaving the streets paved in a glow of streetlights that reflected off the wet pavement.

Closing the door behind him, Soul headed towards the car, and sat himself in the driver's seat, started the engine and looked at Maka, who, after seconds of closing the passenger door behind her, began to sob quietly, her tears an ache that only Soul could listen to.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE)

I'm sorry. I know you all hate me for updating SO LATE… but school is demanding that I get better grades, so I've been working my tail off for my parents and my school. I'm hoping this chapter wasn't too… long or not descriptive. I really tried my best, especially since it's been so long since I've even touched this story.

My apologies to any and all of you readers out there. I really hope you liked this chapter though. I think I'll add one last chapter… just to end it off with something on a better note, y'know? But I'm sort of at a writers block at how to end it. I need reviews and messages to give me a few ideas.

I love all of your support! It means the world to me. And sorry if you pick out any grammatical errors in the story; I'm trying to fix that as I go.

Copyright: Soul Eater belongs entirely to its creators. Not to me. ANY characters belong to them.

Subscribe, Review… do anything to give me feedback on the story; once again, THANK YOU.