3Pt. 2
How much could they hide from one another, and for how long?
It began as something unintentional, an irrational fear for the others' response for something that they must have already known. The amount of worry that it could have brought on, though, was the true reason why they kept their literal scars hidden for as long as they did.
Both Maka and Black Star worked the same job as a front line meister; injuries were a part of the job description. No one retired from that role unscathed, let alone retired at all. They already knew about their own marks of war, but what about their lover's?
Perhaps it wasn't time to know about that.
Instead, they peppered each other with smooches where ever they could, quick and happy pecks even when they weren't healing scratches or larger wounds. Black Star's face was evidently less rugged while Maka's legs felt smoother, both having nicks and uneven skin healed during surprise or planned kiss attacks.
As familiar as a kiss on the cheek, they also made the hands and forehead a frequent stop. Throughout the day, it wasn't strange to give habitual kisses in those areas, even in public. And why stop there? A kiss on temple was common for when they were each others' headaches. Maybe a trail up the arm in exchange for those soothing giggles. Kisses along their neck were for more special occasions, followed by their jawline and then their lips.
Then, a kiss goodbye was given a whole new meaning. It wasn't just routine; it was a ritual. Being gone for days at a time, Maka and Black Star knew that they could never return without some form of harm inflicted onto them. So a kiss for the road, Black Star would say. It was a safety charm for good measure, Maka followed suit. Most importantly, it was a promise to always be there to heal once they returned.
To be able to come home to the other's company and to be able to call one another theirs, wasn't that enough? They already felt so complete around each other by basking in proximity. Asking for more seemed like too much.
But it was bound to happen.
The conversation that they tried to avoid eventually presented itself during the worst time imaginable. Maka was escorted back to Black Star looking like the definition of worse for wear. She grinned smugly and held up two fingers for her hard earned victory; only one side of the fight was able to come back home, and it wasn't the enemy who did.
Black Star frowned slightly, though was quick to acknowledge her strength as normally as he could. He tried to hide his stiffened posture and forced tone in front of her aid, but to Maka, it was clear that he was unpleased. Her smile dropped from her face, and she allowed herself to be carried into the living room, waving goodbye at the assistant for their medical treatment and assuring that Star could take it from there. She watched quietly as he explained the strange phenomenon that happened between them at the door, and then made grabby hands for him when he made his way back to her.
It couldn't be helped. A fractured leg and lacerations spanning all across her body was a price to pay for her life. You should have seen the other guy, Maka tried to say, but Black Star wasn't having any of that nonsense. They weren't the one laying on the couch and dragging bloody clothes onto his cushions.
He demanded to see her injuries, to let him tend to them the way he wanted. And she initially refused because the cuts ran deeper up her back and in places she was embarrassed to show. Black Star said carefully that it was only more reason for him to treat properly, especially before they became worse.
Reluctantly, she allowed him to peel off her coat, and then work his way the other layers of her outfit. The medic did a thorough job of wrapping her properly, but Black Star wished that the didn't redress her in the same filthy clothes that could have infected the wound in the first place. When he reached her bare skin, it wasn't the amount of bandages that caused him to gasp, but the places where she wasn't covered.
He forgot about their silent game of hide and don't seek, and so did she. Maka remembered much too late, making a scramble for her coat in a panic once she realized why he paused, but he kicked it away roughly from her reach.
Exposed, vulnerable, she sat with her back still turned to him, fearful of his response and what he would say to her next. A harsh scolding to make up for all of the years of scars she'd built on her body seemed likely. Rejection, the least, but still a reality she was afraid to face.
Would she still be beautiful in his eyes after he saw all her memories of battle, all the horrors she'd survived?
He wouldn't answer her, because that wasn't the question that he lingered upon.
For every messy and jagged scar, there was double the amount of discolored patches that surrounded it. And for every old gash that he could see poking out of her fresh bandages were a multitude of stitches following them. If that were only her back, then how much more had she been hiding over the rest of her body?
More importantly, Black Star's heart spoke to her:
Why wasn't I there for you?
Maka squeezed his hand, finally looking behind to see his regret and his hurt. It was an overwhelming amount to see all at once, and she knew that. Though she carried her marks with her for her whole life, it was different to have someone else see them for the first time. She couldn't imagine what it would feel when she finally saw his. Undoubtedly it would feel the same as his reaction, right?
She sighed, bringing up the hand she held and guiding it around to rest on her stomach. In that half hug, she leaned against his chest and asked quietly, "That bad, huh?"
Black Star swallowed. "I've seen worse."
"Liar."
They spent the early parts of the evening with her most recent injuries, and following those, Black Star then devoted the rest of his time to the old. He found every memory that he could, asking what happened for each, and listening when she could remember. As a gift and reward, he kissed those moments goodbye, no matter if she recalled or not.
He was instant pain-be-gone, Maka joked, hoping to see a smile from him at least once that night. A feeble attempt, but a much appreciated one.
When Black Star let out a chuckle, she was instantly filled with the same warmth that his kisses brought on. She wanted more of that, she decided. More of that love and comfort that he so readily provided.
She continued to poke at his humor until his gloom fell away, until his touches were less delicate and more playful. In the moments when she could escape him, she would find and kiss one of his more visible scarrings, too. A return service, so to speak, one usually followed by jubilant shrieks when he caught her again.
Going on for as long as they did, they hit a stopping point once he reached her waistband.
She wasn't ready for him to see it all quite yet, but when she was, she knew that he would be there to heal her.
Written for MaStar Week 2018
Day 4: Time After Time
