SOUL'S POV

Finishing up with the song, strumming the last few chords, Soul sat there in the deafening silence before his body shuddered- whether it was from the chilliness of the apartment, or it was what he had composed, he didn't know.

Bending over, he put his elbows to his knees and laced his fingers across the nape of his neck and instantly found his answer.

Jesus Christ, its freezing in here… maybe some hot water will fix that up.

Setting the mechanical pencil down onto his bedside desk, he got up and rummaged through his drawers. Picking through the numerous band t-shirts and jeans, he found a simple grey and white, horizontal striped shirt that accompanied a pair of black, cargo pants.

Adding undergarments and a towel, he shuffled his feet towards the bathroom and grasped the door handle, finding that the light was on under the crack of the entrance; tapping on the door, he heard a very light tink! and a few hurried movements before a controlled "yeah" responded.

Opening the plastic doorknob, Soul kept his eyes to the floor but it seemed that Maka had been finished with whatever she was doing, so he flicked his attention to her eyes and then to her arms, which were tightly pressed against her hips.

What's up with Maka? Why is she so stiff and standing in such a bizarre position? It's as she's hiding-

"Hey Maka, I'll be needing to take a shower soon, so if you could plea-…"

Soul wrinkled his forehead while he narrowed his eyes both of Maka's hips for there several strips of red that were spreading on her tiny, navy t-shirt.

Soul set his change of clothes onto the counter and looked over his roommate again.

Concern washed over the albino teen's face while he lifted Maka's extremely thin wrist, while Maka just stood there, looking Soul up and down with emptiness in her expression.

"May I," Soul asked as he carefully tugged at the hem of his Meister's staining shirt.

She just shrugged while she crossed her arms over her chest, allowing the permission while he carefully cuffed the shirt and pulled it over her hip bones. On both of her slim hips were five, crimson slices contrasting over hundreds of old, white scars that stretched from one side of her pelvis to the other.

Taking his shaky hands away, Soul stuffed them into his pockets and slid past her, farther into the bathroom before opening a creaky wooden cabinet and pulled out cotton balls.

"Soul, what the hell are you doin-," she was cut of abruptly when Soul muttered in sad monotone, "if you feel that you can't trust your friends, even your own weapon who swore to his life to protect you, the least you can do is let me clean up your wounds…"

Picking out a bag of cotton balls, bandages, and a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, he swiveled around the girl and lead Maka out of the room, sitting down on the couch.

Getting to work, he poured the disinfectant into the cotton and ignored the wince coming from his Meister, who looked dejectedly at the smooth, crimson sofa beneath them. Soul did this as they both sat in the silence, before he kindly asked her to turn so he could finish on her other hip.

"Maka… I don't know what drove you to come here this weekend… and I don't know what inside yourself, drove you to do this… but please remember that there are people out there who are there for you. I'm you're weapon and I swore on my life to protect you from whatever harm comes your way, even self-inflicted harm. Not doing my duty as a weapon and not being there for you when you're in need of a friend is not cool on any standards…," he whispered as he put on the last bandage, and hugged his friend from behind.

What the hell was she thinking… Why couldn't she trust me, or the others, at that matter? She practically lives with me every day of every single week except on the weekends… It had to be something about her father…it had to be; it's the only other person she lived with.

Pulling away, he took all of the disinfectant and put them in the cabinet before throwing away the used cotton balls and plastic strips that had contained the band-aids.

"Will you be fit enough to go home tomorrow," Soul hollered.

Without getting a response, he stepped out of the bathroom and rested his eyes on Maka. Her lip was trembling, but she bit it to keep her weakness from showing.

She huffed out a shaky breath before scampering to her bedroom and closing the door, her face pink with hot, angry tears streaming down her cheeks.

Holding the bottle of Tylenol, Soul stared at the wooden design on her door, thinking things over while he heard the muffled sound of cursing and whimpering come from her room.

Standing there, dumbfounded and confused as what to do, he began to pace the living room, weaving amongst the furniture.

What do I do? Do I go in and comfort her? Do I hold her or do I stay out here, pacing like an idiot? Will she accept the gesture or will she shove me off, needing time to herself? Will she accept me, or refuse my help? Maybe… no. I need to at least try; it's my duty as a friend and as a weapon to be there. No matter what the consequences may be…

After heating a small mug of hot chocolate, he poured out two tiny white capsules onto the palm of his hand and set the bottle of Tylenol beside the sink. He studied the pills, reading the numbers engraved in the white substance before looking over his shoulder and took notice of how quiet her crying had become.

Tiptoeing to her room, Soul knocked on her bedroom door and, getting silence as a response, he cracked the door open and found Maka, lying down with her back facing the door. Her crying had eased and it seemed as if she was trying to regain her breath, hiccupping and humming to herself.

Entering the room, he set the mug and two tablets onto her bedside table and studied the room around him.

Hanging on the wall beside the door was a full, body length mirror, and opposite of that was the bed on the wall, farthest from her door. The bed in the corner was made of yellow and green floral designs, matching that of the cream-colored walls of the apartment. A tall, wooden dresser, similar to the one in Soul's own bedroom, was pushed against the wall beside a small square table that held the gifts Soul had brought in and a lamp that poured light into the small, cozy room. Another work table was set up beside the door; textbooks, pencils and notebooks were set up neatly on the surface and a small picture frame of Maka and her friends sat in the corner of the desk while three candles lit up the memory.

Thinking back to that now, when that picture had been taken, it had been one of the happiest moments he'd had with Maka and his friends; that was before Medusa had become a conflict in their lives and Soul changed from his childish self into the more serious teenager he was now.

With this, he sat on the foot of Maka's bed and looked over to the sniffling wreck, holding herself tightly, as if she was going to shatter into tiny bits and pieces.

This… Is going to be a long day….

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hey. Yeah… new chapter.

Probably won't add another until Wednesday, when Fall Break starts…

But, I'll TRY MY ABSOLUTE BEST! I'll be looking forward to read your opinions! They help!

Disclaimer:

All work goes to the makers of Soul Eater; no credit goes toward me at all…

Thanks guys!