Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater.

The second!

"climbing rooftops"

There were times in which she doubted herself, fell to the ground in hopelessness, in defeat, when it seemed that there was no possible chance at winning.

Those were the times that he was there to grab her hand and hoist her back onto her feet, hold her closely, shaking her into sense again with some of the most comforting and encouraging words the world has ever heard.

"Maka, we're strong enough! You're strong enough! There's no way in hell I'm gonna let this demon spawn so much as touch you, let alone hurt you!"

Those were the times when she thought she was going to cry, but she always shook the tears away and got back up and fought for him.

Never for her.

--

Maybe it was simply fate.

Maybe it was something else.

Maybe it was because the split second she stepped out of her home without him, she had woken up here.

But the reality was that she was dying in this god-damned black hole, bleeding out her life alone.

The scent of her own blood was smothering her, thick enough to swallow like water. Not an inch of her skin was clean.

She had tried to break down the door; it had been no use. The iron stood undaunted and unwilling to bend.

She hadn't cried, but her spirit had been broken in two.

It was inevitable, she thought, that she was going to die here.

Alone.

Without him.

So when a blade cut through the door like it was paper and the heartbroken white-haired boy rushed to her side, frantic and worried and scared -- for her -- it had seemed so incredibly, so irrevocably unreal.

--

He figured that he would give up everything he had to stay here, with her, forever, surrounded by everyone who he'd befriended.

The hospital room was cramped, sure, but it seemed rather comfortable as everyone laughed and was grateful of the little things. The weapons, the meisters, the teachers, and the occasionally sobbing half of a parental unit were all there, just happy to be together in this small space, where nothing unfortunate could wrong them, where life was blissful and without sorrow.

They disregarded the nurses that insisted that visiting hours were over.

She dozed off everyone in a while, but he, laying next to her, never let go of her hand, vowing to never leave her side again. Every time he squeezed her fingers she smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. The warmth that entered his chest as enough to split his heart in two.

All of them stayed for hours on end, but when everyone else had gone home for the night, he was the one who lingered.

He was the one who bided to be her pillow, her heat source, her comfort, her protector, her lifeline, her reality.

He was the one that remained.

--

It was hard to deny how foolish she felt at this moment.

Sure, she had wanted to go the annual Shibusen Ball to socialize with friends she hadn't associated with in a while, but she hadn't wanted to do this!

Damn it, she was still in a cast! The stitches still throbbed in her gut and it had taken her most caring friend hours to get her into this freaking dress and the sole three-inch heel!

But her weapon had thought otherwise.

Dressed sharply in his pinstripe suit, he had smirked at her smugly as he chided her.

"Come on, Maka, it's not like we're doing the high-level moves."

Before she had even known what was happening, she was being swept out with a broken leg and twenty-seven stitches and a barely-out-of-the-hospital vibe into the center of the polished wood floor. Instantly she felt a warm hand slip down to her waist and another entwine with one of hers. She looked up in surprise at her partner.

This was the first time he had swayed with her like this outside of the dimension of his twisted soul. This was the first time she had truly danced with him, right there in front of everyone.

But the shocking thing was that the crimson-eyed boy didn't seem to care. His 'cool' demeanor stood forgotten on the balcony where they were once standing, and she wondered why on earth he would leave it behind, especially now, when everyone's eyes were on them.

His face easily transformed into a wide, sly grin, and a ripple of something unknown fought its way across her chest.

"What, it can only happen in my head?"

She laughed softly, and he couldn't help but snicker as well. He maneuvered her stiff leg around for the rest of the song, and a few after that.

How he had made her feel so at ease that night, she had no idea.

--

It was nighttime, and she was restless.

She tossed and turned, unable to find a suitable position to gain a few minutes of sleep in, the bulky and tight cast fighting her in the battle for repose.

It was then that he would brush her hair back from her face with careful fingers, smother her with pillows, trying to provide her with anything that would float her into slumber, to help ease her too-aware mind away from realities for a few hours.

He would fall asleep next to her, and somehow, the sound of his calming pulse lulled her into the deepest sleep she'd ever had.

Thuhthump, thuhthump, thuhthump...

--

"Soul, draw one more doodle on my cast and I swear I will skin you alive."

"Come on, Maka, you aren't that heartless."

Her leg was propped up on one of the chairs, and he was taking this opportunity to draw all over the once white plaster with the intimidating red Sharpie in his hand. Daring as he was, he snickered and proceeded to draw yet another scythe.

She promptly whacked him over the head with the nearest encyclopedia, but later apologized for it when he put up a show of sulking. She had rolled her eyes, guilt blasting her full-force.

"Fine, Soul. You can draw on it."

He grinned, then wrote his name over and over, all over her heart.

--

He woke up screaming.

Immediately becoming aware that he was still at home, he pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face there, shaking so violently that it was all he could to to stay sitting up.

The nightmare had seemed so real.

For the first time since he was a toddler, he felt a lump grow in his throat, hot tears well in his eyes until they spilled over. The salt water trailed down his face and neck, some reaching his scarred chest.

More than a decade of bottled sorrow had reached its peak and was finally showing through in the form of dusty suppressed sobs.

That one nightmare had brought every bit of his resolve down within minutes.

"Maka!"

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Silence.

"MAKA!!"

Cloudy green eyes. "S-Soul..."

"Maka, fight for me, don't give up now, come on Maka, you can make it..."

His hands pressed on her chest, trying to stop the pain.

"Soul...I-I..."

"Maka, please...don't leave me. You're all I've got -- come on, Maka...!"

Her eyes were closing. A soft smile.

"Soul, I'm..."

A wet cough. Trickle.

"Maka, don't speak, it's going to be okay, we'll get out of here..."

She shakes her head. "No, Soul, I'm sorry..."

"Don't speak! It's my fault, I should have been there to protect you!"

A smile. "Soul, it was...it was never your fault."

Her eyes were almost shut.

He let out a scream. "MAKA! NO! Don't leave me!"

Her head lulled to the side, and her pulse faded into nothingness.

"NO!"

He clutched her still body to his chest, trying to revive her with the beat of his own heart.

"MAKAAAAAA!"

He gave another sob. She had nearly died when he had not been there to protect her, and now he would regret it for the rest of his life. He twisted his rough fingers in his shock-white hair, knowing that every night he would be barraged with these horrible dreams because of his huge mistake.

He knew he'd never forgive himself.

There was a knock on his door, and he knew beyond reason who was behind it.

But he said nothing.

She didn't hesitate.

The door opened with a slight creak and she was standing there in her nightgown, bulky cast and all, bright green eyes glowing even in the dark. She called his name softly, and his heart cracked at the worry there. He still didn't speak, but an involuntary sob gave him away. Gentle thuds followed as she slowly approached him, her soft breathing comforting him now.

When she slipped her small, callused hands around his abdomen and leaned her head on his bare shoulder, his black heart just about shattered.

Why hadn't he been there to save her? How could he not protect her when she needed it most?

He had failed.

He could feel her sweet breath on his chest, and felt her move closer, her head coming to rest next to his face. His hot tears dampened her pig-tailed hair as she whispered against his cold, sweat-slicked skin.

"What's wrong?"

The tears continued to fall, but his fingers unknotted from his hair as she hugged him, the sobs growing quieter.

"I...I almost lost you, didn't I?"

She pulled away from his just a little bit, but enough to make him want her to come back as her glowing green eyes searched his tear-streaked face. He could have sworn that there, in her eyes, was a hundred thousand stars sparkling back at him as she stared at him.

"It wasn't your fault."

In an instant, he was millimeters away from her face, his damp breath and her surprised air mixing between them. Her eyes were wide again, and her arms dropped from around his torso. His eyes slid closed, but he was unable to stop the flow of water down his face. He drew a breath, and she bit her lip.

His brow furrowed, trying to think of what to say. Finally, he uncovered his crimson eyes.

"Don't...Don't ever say that." If he had been a minute later in finding her in that damned place, she would have died and they both knew it.

She reached up and wiped away his tears with the pads of her fingers, marveling at the water: It was the first time she'd seen him cry.

"It was never your fault."

He shook his head slightly, a smirk fighting its way to his cracked lips. She had always had nerve.

"It always is, Maka. Ever since..."

He leaned down, touching his forehead to hers and feeling all the cells in his body react to her wavelength the way that felt so fitting, so perfect, so meant to be. Her soul reacted to his the same way, and he felt her breath against his lips as their hearts beat together.

He felt complete like this, because he had her and he would never, ever betray her and she knew it.

She was his miester, his best friend, his salvation.

--

Sometimes he'd sit on rooftops gazing at the sky and thinking about nothing, yet everything in particular.

He'd think about her more often than not.

Maybe it was time he realized that he'd fallen in love with the girl that was so unbelievably uncool, the bookworm, the blunt one, the miester - his miester.

He heard her voice say his name in his dreams, in his daydreams, and he often ran his hand across his chest to remind himself of the sacrifice that he'd been ready to make for her.

He grinned to himself as she sat down next to him.

"You found me."

She was quiet for a moment. He smiled up at the stars as he breathed in her scent.

"What are you thinking about?"

He decided to be honest.

"You."

"Really?"

"Really."

She blinked up at him, and he looked down at her with a smirk and saw there in her eyes the one hundred thousand stars that he'd happily stare forever at. He saw her mouth curve into a smile as well.

Yeah, he was in love with the girl that had the entire galaxy in her huge green eyes and always had that heavy textbook in her arms and still laughed at the little things.

Tomorrow he'd tell her.

Because she had no problem with climbing rooftops to reach him.

This one was a bit longer...and more angsty than the last one. What did you think?

Because I love your thoughts.

-datt