**Hey guys! This will be my first FanFic so go easy on me. But I'm also trying to improve as a writer so criticism will be helpful!

Soul Eater is not mine!**

- Maka -

I wake up at my usual time. I yawn, stretch - then fall back in bed. Phew, I'm tired. That extra lesson yesterday really took it all out of me, plus I'm still catching up on sleep after defeating the Kishin and stuff.

Suddenly, I sit bolt upright and pull off the covers fast in order to force myself out of bed. Time to make breakfast for Soul and me. I pull on my usual outfit, then look in the mirror. I guess I've got a body many girls would kill for, but I still don't think it's good enough for what - I mean who - I want. I grab my black coat and book bag then make my way to the kitchen.

Soul and me don't have a huge place, like Kid and Patty and Liz, but it's pretty nice. We've got everything we need, and (no real need to say this)it's much better than staying with my dad. So I'm not complaining. I pull out a pan and start some bacon and eggs for breakfast. I also start some coffee. Sigh. I don't have anything else to think about, so my mind automatically goes back to that moment right after I'd pulled Soul out of the madness - our lips had been so close, almost touching. And I'd felt him hesitate, I'd felt his desire, I'd felt his want... Or maybe it was just my imagination? Either way, I know I'd felt those things, and only Lord Death knows what would've happened in between us then if we hadn't been in the middle of, ya know, saving the world.

I pull myself out of my thoughts and flip Soul's egg (he prefers over easy, I guess it's just to make my life harder). Then comes the best/worst part of my day (at the very least, the most confusing).

Waking up Soul.

I love walking into his room, smelling his smell, seeing him so peaceful in his sleep. But... Soul sleeps in just boxers, which means... I can always see his scar. That scar - it strikes so many emotions in my heart; fear, debt, pain, desire...

I pinch myself then, slowly and carefully, head down the hall and into his room.

It's a relatively sweet room, but it's filthy. His clothes are all over the place. His guitar is leaning on the bed; he must've been playing last night. His headband is slung over a lamp. His motorcycle keys are half covered up by some old snack wrappers.

So, I slowly make my way towards his bed, where he's sleeping soundly. The covers rise and fall with his breath. He had obviously moved around a lot in his sleep last night, because his covers are askew, leaving me with a great view of his chest - and scar.

Deep breath, I tell myself. Instead of getting any closer, I throw his shoe at his face, turn on the lights, and lean over to steal his blanket. I then proceed to sprint out of the room, ignoring his desperate cry, one of a dying vampire, yelling, "ARHHHHGGG MY EYES!".

I run back into the kitchen, my heart racing, and slowly fold up his blanket. It smells like his sweet boy-ish scent; my nostrils burn from it. I close my eyes and my thoughts drift back to that night, with Crona, in the chapel...

Slash, blood, fear, Soul falling to the ground... Then there's me, not even caring what happens...

Maybe I wasn't even me back then...

I snap out of it in time to save the bacon.