Maka... it isn't a fear of men you have. Thats...
Androphobia.
She had a fear of men.
It was quite evident.
She never really came into contact with a lot of men, which made her wonder how she got it. Her teacher, who she was never close to anyhow- this is why she did not feel fear with him. Her father, who she hated, and for that reason could not fear him as well. And the rest of the male students, who she didn't talk to- books were her friends, she loved them, and they loved her.
There was only one man she ever came into contact with enough for it to matter.
And that was how she first noticed the problem.
Every time she walked past him, there was a cold shiver that ran up her spine so icy that it almost made her freeze to the spot, a small gasp of air escaping her lips as she always whirred round to look at him. And at that point there would be a feeling in her gut, tugging her away, making her feel sick to her stomach and blood would rush to her face and make her light headed.
Every time they brushed against each other, a fire was started, dancing first upon the fabric of her clothing before burning straight to her skin, which remained aflame for hours after. She'd grit her teeth and attempt to fight it, but the pain would almost make her faint—it was even worse when his fingers touched her cheek, asking if she was ok, and she would die right there, something would break, and like a frightened animal, she'd crawl away as fast as she could.
Every time he was near, she felt like she couldn't breathe. Every step closer made her throat restricted her chest, making her shudder, making her gasp even if she was standing perfectly still. She masked this by coughing. It didn't help at all. In an attempt to breathe again she had to remove herself, slowly walk away, find an excuse. But even after he was not in sight, it still felt like someone had a steel cage around her ribs, and was slowly pressing the two walls together.
The girl had been to the doctors. She was physically fine- but she insisted that this fear was rational, that men made her so ill she was scared to be around them now. She wanted it fixed. She didn't want to feel ill around her partner any more. She wanted to be fine with him... but it felt like he was killing her. The doctor would only shake his head. He couldn't do anything for a fear like that.
But it hadn't always been like this. For the first few months it had been fine. Then, she suddenly started to notice things about him. How pretty his eyes were, the refined curve of his jaw, the shape of his body, the handsomeness of his face and the deepness of his voice. These things stood out for some reason. These things made her start to turn weak, weak to the point where it was interfering with work. She didn't want to walk into the battlefield to be distracted by his face... but after feeling distracted, came this intense feeling of 'something', the feeling of almost obsession over him, and she declined the invitation to pay more attention to him. It was scary. She, Maka Albarn, was never going to be swayed so easily! These feelings... they could only be fear. Nothing else. And she supposedly had the courage to fight fear, huh...
And even now, as he was sleeping on the sofa with his chest shifting slightly as he breathed, his stark white hair in gentle spikes over his eyes and his arms behind his head as a kind of makeshift pillow, she couldn't help but stare, drawn in like a magnet, wanting to touch and see if he felt this pain too, if she was the only one... Her heart drummed at twice the speed as usual when she saw him, always picking up speed so fast she felt like she was running a race, running in circles around him, trying to escape.
"Maka?"
She squeaked uneasily, snapping to attention as her deep green eyes met his soft red ones.
"Y-Yes?"
It hurt so much, but at the same time, she loved it.
"You were staring off into space."
"I was, huh? Sorry..."
"...You're so uncool."
And in one swift motion, he got to his feet, arched his back like a cat and whipped around lazily, aiming to head for his room. She was left in his wake with the scent of metal and leather floating around her, and the back lash of breeze it was carried on.
Her breath hitched.
Her chest hurt.
She felt sick.
Pulling her knees up to her face, she buried her head in her jeans and breathed out slowly, trying to calm down, her body rewarding her for not running with a warm feeling in her chest that was slowly spreading to the rest of her.
This feeling...
It couldn't be anything else.
She was afraid of men.
This was... evident.
...love.