Sweat trickled down her temple and her labored breathing left puffs of steam in the chill night air. She lay on a park bench, her hair tangling in the splintered wood. Her knees were bent, forcing her skirt to fall back towards her hips and her dizzy eyes perceived a tuft of white, spiky hair between her legs.

"Soul…" she whimpered his name, her eyes squeezing shut in pleasure. "Soul –." He stopped his tongue from moving and looked up at his desperate meister. She glanced at him, lust filling the silence, he grinned at her and placed two fingers at her opening. Her eyes widened at his supposed intentions, and as he began to enter her folds, she gasped.

Her eyes snapped open. Saturday morning sunlight streamed through the small opening in her purple curtains. She looked towards it and sighed. After a moment she sat up, relishing in the warmth of the room and letting it excuse her from facing the world. She got up anyway, forcing herself to make a pot of coffee and sit at the small, round table in the kitchen. She refused to open the blinds, and so the whole apartment was washed in sepia. She took a sip of her black coffee and shut her eyes.

That was the fourth dream this week, she thought. I can't even begin to imagine how many it's been this month. If he had any idea I imagined those things… She thought of her lazy-ass roommate and his lopsided grin and smiled despite herself. She wasn't sure what had brought these dreams on, but she was honest enough by now to admit she liked them. It was strange though, every dream she'd had so far involved them fooling around, but never going all the way. She wondered for a moment if she was afraid, but that only made her wonder what it was she was actually afraid of…

At that moment, the item of her thoughts walked into the room, boxers askew and one eye glued shut. She hid a small smile behind her coffee mug as he shuffled into the room and let a yawn loose.

"It's about time you got up," she said, and he only groaned. He began to pour himself a cup of coffee and fill it with milk and sugar. He then plopped himself down in the chair across from hers and took a long sip. He rubbed his eyes to open them and when he did he looked around the room.

"What are you doing with the curtains closed?" he said. She took a moment before replying.

"I'm enjoying the silence…" she said at almost a whisper.

"What?"

"You're right!" she then exclaimed, and rushed up and snapped the curtains open. Sun fell into the room and landed right in Soul's eyes and he growled.

"Damn it, Maka! What is wrong with you?" she laughed and walked over to the fridge to get the eggs. It was time for breakfast.

The beginning of summer was nice. It wasn't Maka's favorite, but it was the perfect time of year to practice their fighting skills. Her and Soul hadn't any particularly new moves to try out, so it mostly involved perfecting the old ones. To some, it may seem silly to go over the basics, but as Soul mentioned to her the other day, "if you can't rebound the ball, you may as well not bother shooting". Although the basketball metaphor went over her head at first, his explanation made her see he was exactly right. However, Soul didn't know she was going to apply it so hastily.

"Maka, its almost five o'clock! We've been at this nearly three hours straight! At least give a guy a break!" he complained for the umpteenth time.

"Soul," she replied firmly. "Once you can show me you're too tired to talk, then we'll stop." She was panting as well, but the holographic dummies at the end of the arena just kept coming. They battled their way through creeper and golem, until Maka's knees finally gave out and Soul fell down next to her.

"My, my," said Professor Stein from his perch on the balcony. "I would say practice makes perfect, but I think it's simply endurance you're gaining." Maka scowled in his direction, not knowing how long he'd been there, but knowing it was long enough no matter what. Soul watched his meister breath heavily and wondered what had gotten her so worked up. Sure, she was usually a pain in the ass, but there was something in her demeanor in these "practices" that he couldn't put his finger on.

They walked back to their place from the DWMA, the dusky light making shadows on the streets. Their pace was more like that of a trudge and it wasn't long before Soul spoke up.

"You know," he began. "We're graduating next year. And I only need 8 more souls and a witch before I'm a death scythe. Don't get me wrong, I want it bad, but…" Maka seemed to ignore him, and he furrowed his brows at her.

"Maka, are you even -."

"Soul." She said and they both stopped walking. "I want to move out." He looked at her, a blank expression on his face. She really hadn't been listening.

"That's what's been in your head this whole time? What's wrong with you?" She looked at him, her face calmer than usual, and it made him uncomfortable.

"Soul, I'm going to make you a Death Scythe. And I'm going to do it before we graduate. But… I need my own space." He stood there looking at her face, wondering what was wrong with her. And then he thought, maybe it was his fault.

"Look, Maka, I know I'm not the best roommate, but if you just talk to me, we can sort it out." She giggled softly, and he was only more surprised.

"Soul, it's really not your fault."

Yes, it is.

"I know I've been pushing you really hard lately. And I think it's just because we're so close…"

That's one way to put it.

"So close to making you a Death Scythe. I want it bad too."

You have no idea.

"I just think having my own place will help us work together better. Maybe sharing a flat is creating too much outside tension. Besides, you didn't think we were gonna live together forever, did you?"

He realized she was serious about this, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. He sighed and placed his hands behind his head and started walking again.

"If that's really what you want…"

"It is." They walked on and when he thought she wasn't looking, he glanced at her. Her face was still calm, but there was something in her eyes. There was something in them she wasn't sharing; and he knew that that's where the real problem was.