Maka Albarn had known what she was getting herself into. Or at least she thought she did. An obsession compulsive disorder couldn't be too terribly demanding could it? Not if she was a neat and tidy person herself.

Surely not…

Oh, how wrong she had been.

Things weren't always like this, though it had been going on long enough it seemed to be a daily happening; a routine, if you will. As she cleaned up the shattered remains of a dropped tea cup from around the bawling reaper, she thought back to when things had gotten this bad. Perhaps it was the demise of Liz and Patti, his trusty weapon partners. She could still remember the day they were officially pronounced dead.

The sisters had been in the hospital for weeks, their condition only worsening. It was truly amazing as much as it was ironic how something as simple as infected wounds had taken the girls down so quickly and at the same time; but no matter, it had. For Liz, it had been the ever growing fever that finished her, for Patti, many believed it was the grieving for her lost sister combined with the overwhelming amount of diseases that entered her body due to her weak immune system; the fact that she was in a hospital didn't exactly insure a proper quarantine.

"I'm SHIT!" He screeched, bringing Maka from her thoughts. She simply shook her head, knowing no amount of comfort, no amount of reassuring words would even curb his harsh rants. "Filth! Disgusting! Garbage! An utter disappointment!" His hand shot out towards the floor; without even looking up at him, Maka knew what he was reaching for and quickly brushed them out of his reach, ignoring the cuts she received. The glass shards. His disorder had now led him to self harm. He growled with rage as his makeshift weapons where pulled from his reach, but soon settled for slamming his head into the wall. At least that didn't have the potential to kill him. He continued to wail and throw himself at the wall, looking utterly insane. His clothes we absolutely neglected, though his t-shirt and loose pants were, in fact, symmetrical, they were horribly stained and dirtied, simply from lack of proper care. His hair was an absolute mess; instead of the neat and tidy lines that interrupted his otherwise raven hair, streaks of white protruded here and there from the tangled mess in no particular order. It seemed his disease didn't require him to look in a mirror, or else Maka was certain he would find a way to efficiently do himself in.

"You're not shit, Kidd…" She sighed, wishing with all her heart he might listen to her one day. After ensuring all the shards were gone, she went to carry them to a trash can. Days like these she wondered if he even knew she was around. Of course she knew he could see her, but sometimes, like now, he just seemed so far gone, so distant, that she was unsure that he was aware of her presence.

Her minded drifted back to the memories of her beloved friends' deaths. She remembered seeing his face, though he was just barely leaving his teens, he had looked so much like a lost child that night. He had insisted that everyone leave, but she decided to wait patiently for him in the waiting room. When he finally walked out, nearly a day later, he sat a few seats from Maka. This was the very first time she had experienced her friend so far gone. Just like now, he didn't seem to know she was there. Eventually, she returned to her shared apartment and he returned to his newly emptied mansion. No one had heard from him in weeks. Grieving; this was the answer everyone arrived at, and decided to let him heal at his own pace.

Maka shook her head as she heard a new outburst from the death god. She quickly disposed of the broken porcelain cup and began washing her hands. Of course their death was five years ago, but he still hadn't gotten over it. No one truly had. Their death, so quick and at such a young age, had been unexpected. She knew Kidd blamed himself for their early demise, and she had told him on several occasions that it wasn't, but there was only so much she could say.

She had to accept him.

She had been the first to visit him, to see if he was ok; and was the first that found he was far from it. His hygiene was horrendous. His house was in shambles. His paintings were off by a centimeter. Utter chaos surrounded his small, almost starved body that laid in a fetal position in the corner. In a way, she had saved him that day she came to visit for the first time. She fed him a proper meal. She demanded he take a shower. That he brushed his teeth. His hair. She felt as if she were lecturing a mere toddler, though he was obedient to her demands, she knew her friend wasn't there. His soul was dead. No, dying. Slowly… Very slowly…

She made her visits regular; but the remembrance of Death The Kidd in Death City began to fade. Only Maka, and sometimes Lord Death, seemed to care. There was no doubt that Lord Death loved his only son, but he was simply far too busy to visit him at his home regularly; before the 'accident', Kidd often visited his father at the school for bonding time. Now Kidd very rarely left the house. Maka's visits became increasingly frequent, and eventually she decided to reside in one of the many extra rooms in the Gallows Mansion. Kidd didn't seem to mind; or at least he didn't say anything about it. He never really said anything these days.

The blonde paused for a long moment and closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself to return to the disturbed shinigami as a pair of long, skinny arms snaked their way around her waist and pulled her back into something solid. She froze and her body stiffened. Was it a pre-kishin? No, that was ridiculous. This was Kidd, but why was he doing this? Would he kill her? Was he officially insane enough to do that? She almost jumped as something slightly heavy laid its weight on her shoulder. She looked over to see Kidd's head, his face buried in her sleeve and her shoulder becoming increasingly moist. He was still crying, but it was silent tears now, not a tirade. She relaxed and felt him shudder as he simply held her, showing no signs of letting go. He continued to shake and Maka finally built up the courage to turn around (more like shift) and face him as best she could. "They're gone, Maka… I'm broken…" He whispered, letting his bangs shade his irritated gold and now-red eyes. She didn't know what to say. Was he just now realizing the fact that they had died? Surely not… "But you're here…" No, he wasn't just realized they were gone; he was just accepting it. He accepted they were gone and he was accepting Maka's presence.

Just as Maka accepted him.