A/N: I've haven't posted on FFN in a good 5-6 years and actually fell out of the habit of writing fanfictions for a while. I read and watched Soul Eater about a year ago and finished the manga about 6 months ago. This is most likely a two-shot sort of thing. I've always really loved the dynamics of Soul and Maka's relationship and have "shipped" them even since I became part of the SE fandom. The second part to this will most likely be posted in a few days, to a week at most. I generally only write on Tuesdays, Thursday's, and the weekend since it's my downtime from school. Rating is at T for non-explicit suggestions. Please leave any constructive criticism and let me know how this FF is received. I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammatical errors.
Much Love,
Shrieker

I, in no way, receive profit from this, nor do I own the Soul Eater franchise.

Part One: Contemplation

Maka heard the door to the front door being opened and looked over at her clock, which read 1:45 pm. She had spent a good portion of the day in bed and couldn't bring herself to get up. Everything felt extremely complex and didn't make any sense to her at the moment. She was sure to that it would seem to an outsider like she was depressed; her papa had once again proved his negligence, and though his lack of reliability had once bothered her a lot, she couldn't bring herself to care anymore. She had grown apathetic concerning her father's mistakes at parenthood. No, something entirely different was bothering her, and she suspected that the said cause of her worry had just entered their apartment.

She could hear footsteps, footsteps that she recognized as her roommate and partner Soul's, walk around the otherwise silent apartment.

Soul.

She couldn't seem to make out when Soul began to mean so much more than that of just being her flat-mate and partner. Maybe it around the time that they all had defeated the Kishin Asura… or perhaps when they were pulled into the Book of Eibon…or maybe it could be traced all the way back to the time that Soul protected her from the near fatal blow from Crona. No matter which way Maka looked at it, she kept coming around in full circles and was left with no answers.

A soft knock at her door resonated throughout her room. She burrowed herself deeper into her bed, debating internally as to whether or not she should seek cover under her blankets.

"Maka… Are you in there?" Soul's voice came out gently through her closed bedroom door.

Should she stay silent and hope that he assumed that she was simply not home. She mused over the idea for a second and decided that Soul was not the type to accept that as a possibility. She was almost always with him, and if she wasn't, then the others would have been sure to know where she was. He was almost certainly just asking rhetorically. She made a quick excuse, "Yeah, Soul, I'm home. I'm just not feeling too good."

There was a pause outside her door. After seconds passed, she assumed he bought it and walked away. No such luck. "Do you want to talk about it?" He sounded hesitant. She could only imagine the expression of concern he was possibly wearing. She knew she wasn't a good liar, and even if she were, Soul knew her well enough to see through any lie.

"No!" She answered curtly and felt her face flush. "I mean, I'm probably super contagious, it'd be better if you didn't come in here."

"Yeah, sure… If you didn't want to talk-," there was another pause, as though he was deciding on whether or not to continue. "Look, I'll make dinner. Is there anything you want?"

"…Rice porridge?"

"Alright."

The conversation ended just like that. She slapped herself mentally. She knew that she was avoiding him as of late. She could tell that he noticed, but she couldn't face him, at least not until she sorted out her feelings. Every time she looked at him she felt as though every thought she had concerning him was completely transparent on her face. She trusted Soul, but she couldn't stand the rejection or possible revolted expression on his face. She had made the promise to herself to never make herself vulnerable the way her mother did to her father. She refused to be weak to a man.

'But Soul isn't like Papa. He's different.' Her conscious mused. It didn't matter. He was different, but he was also one in the same. She'd seen the way he looked at Blair; it was that look of absolute lust. And sure when they were fourteen it was different, it was a look of inexperienced boy hormones, but now. No, now he held some experience and maturity that couldn't be mistaken.

He had never looked at her that way. Even after she began to fill out. Sure, she might not have filled out so much upstairs, (her breasts weren't large, but they had filled into a B cup and were round and perky), but she now had a more womanly curve to her body. She was no Tsubaki, but she could no longer be mistaken for a boy or a pre-adolescent girl. Her hips had a gentle swell that was distinguishable from her waist's circumference, as well as her bottom filling out more. She was definitely more bottom heavy. She was had seen the way other boys, and sometimes even men, looked at her even though her body was still very slender. Maka was athletic but there was no denying that she was a young woman; this somehow didn't stop Soul from calling her 'Tiny-Tits' though, much to her chagrin.

She understood now. She didn't have some sort of pre-teen crush on Soul. She cared for him romantically, but most importantly… she wanted him. She was no longer a child, she was at the age of 18, and she wanted Soul for more than simply holding hands. She wanted to caress his cheek as their faces drew near, to wrap her arms around his neck and run her fingers through his alabaster hair as their tongues intertwined. She wanted to feel his hands run down her sides and grab at her in carnal desire.

Most importantly, she wanted him to feel the same desire for her that she felt bubbling within herself throughout these years.

Never had she felt so inadequate or so weak-willed in her own set of beliefs.

She tossed her comforter overhead and closed her eyes tightly. This revelation seemed to open a well of longing in the pit of her stomach, as well as her opening a long since healed wound on her heart. She didn't know how to handle it, she had never really admitted to openly liking, much less loving- she stopped herself before she could begin delve into something too profound for herself in her current state. The only option was to smother the ideas that went hand-in-hand with this new confession. She sighed deeply, dissatisfied with her current predicament.

Ignoring the sunlight battling to break into her room through the blinds, she willed herself to sleep.

A/N: So that is the end to the first part, let me know your opinions on this. Hopefully my writing has greatly improved since the last 5 years, haha. The rating might go up, depending on if I decide to write a "lemon" or not. No flames, just constructive criticism; I can handle it, I can assure you that my history professor is a much heavier grader and I'm strong.