Note:The song that inspired this was Milk and Black Spiders by Foals. It's pretty incredible, and suited these two well in my opinion. As always, Soul Eater is the property of Atsushi Okubo, and I am only borrowing his world. I do not own the song Milk and Black Spiders, only the emotions it evokes within me and the story that was inspired by it. This is rated T for minor sensuality.


It's mind boggling, when he really takes a moment to think about it. There is another soul on this earth, that somehow he found, that can read him so fluently, sees him so clearly and loves him anyway. She can read him by a simple expression, feels the way his soul flutters uncomfortably when others mention 'family' around him. She offers a comforting smile, a gentle squeeze of his hand. She steadies him even without the use of words. They've made language obsolete, and maybe it's evolution in its finest form, or perhaps they're reverting back to the ways things were at the beginning of time, but it doesn't really matter, it's incredible either way.

Though, he has to give himself a little bit of credit.

He can read her just as well.

He can see it on her face, the way her jaw clenches after a particularly brutal fight, hears the tightness in her throat as she tries to laugh off just how close they had been to never taking another breath of this world's air. She never wants to seem too shaken. She's a strong girl, she chose the path of her life all on her own and knew full well how dangerous it would be. It's stated clearly on the registration forms for DWMA, likelihood of a meister or weapon getting seriously injured or killed was incredibly high. She read the words, understood them perfectly, and barreled forward anyway. She was strong, she could handle this, she wouldn't die and neither would her weapon. If she did die, it would be a peaceful death, she would know she did all she could in this life. That is what she told herself.

But when facing your death, or the death of someone you love, logic does not exist. You don't think your way out of how terrified you are, you don't put on a brave face. The first few moments are absolute terror, and composing yourself after is next to impossible.

She does her best though.

Keeps her voice neutral, walks at a steady pace. She's almost good enough at faking, everyone else believes her.

He can see though.

They recline on their couch after patching up each other's wounds, and he can see the way her fingers curl into fists, her brow remaining unnaturally still, eyes unfocused and glassy.

"Maka."

She flinches.

"Mm?" At this point, he realizes that words aren't needed for this moment, simply human connection. He takes a clenched fist, gently unfurls her fingers one by one, placing a kiss on the pad of each digit as it is pulled from its hiding place in her palm. The tendons in her hand twitch, hand shaking slightly, and he knows, he almost has her, she's almost let down the barrier. He places a feather light kiss on her pulse in her wrist, and he can see it jump beneath her skin. He traces her trail of veins up to the crook of her arm with his lips, his hands curled around hers. Her body trembles slightly, and he knows she's almost free. A gentle bite to her throat, and she sucks in a harsh breath, she hasn't quite let go yet, but he knows it won't take much more.

It's a simple press of his lips to her forehead that unravels her.

It's a gradual process, it starts with a single tear , but after that comes another, then two more right after, and soon she's crying hard, biting her lip to stifle sobs. He doesn't know why she always tries so hard to put on a brave face for him, he's here because he wants to know of her thoughts, and how she feels, and he wants to be the thing in her life that brings her comfort when her worst fears terrorize her mind. He pulls her tight against his chest, and he feels it, finally, she's finally let go, crying hard, expelling the pent up pain, and anger, and fear that she's been burdened with. Tears of joy leak from him silently.

It isn't as if he enjoys seeing her in pain, but he's so insanely honored. Honored that he is the only person in the world who has ever seen her in such an honest state. Words are not necessary.

He strokes her hair, and cries with her, until they are so emotionally drained that they fall asleep. When he dreams, there is only music without words, and Maka stands beside him entirely bare, smiling so truthfully, her emotions clear as day. She loves him, she's thankful for him, she trusts him most. That knowledge makes him feel as if he has worth, because if someone as incredible as Maka loves him and trusts him, well then maybe he isn't as worthless as he thought.

The quiet hum of their resonance fills their living room as they sleep, and Maka curls closer to her weapon, a dreamy smile playing at her lips. Though words and language have always intrigued her, nonverbal communication is far superior. Soul's dream self smiles back at her, and they both know that for the moment, things are just as they should be.