Criminy, this was harder to write than I thought it would be. *dies*

I don't own Soul Eater, and that's just a crying shame, innit?

Chapter 2

Soul managed to stifle his chuckles after a few moments, though the sight of Maka's furiously blushing face and mortified expression made him want to burst out into laughter all over again. It was extraordinarily rare for his meister to totally lose her composure and babble on like that, but when it did happen, he found it highly amusing.

"Y'know, it's always a treat to see you get worked up over stupid stuff," he remarked with a lazy grin, poking her forehead.

Maka's eyes snapped open, pinning him with an incredulous stare. "Stupid?" she sputtered, slapping his finger away from her. "I'm trying to tell you what's bothering me, and you think it's stupid?!" She sat up suddenly, angrily shoving at him. "You – you insensitive cretin!"

"Wha-?" Surprised by her sudden outburst, Soul wasn't prepared for her shove, and abruptly found himself making a painful acquaintance with the floor via his right side.

"Dammit, Maka!" Sitting up and rubbing his bruised shoulder, he glared up at her. "What the hell did you do that for?"

"Why do you think, idiot?" she hissed. "Just get out!"

"You violent, mood-swinging…ARGH!" Baffled, frustrated and more than a little irritated about being dumped on the floor, Soul got to his feet. "What is with you? I was just trying to find out what's bugging you, and-"

"And what do you do? You call my feelings stupid!" Crossing her arms, Maka glared at the covers pooled about her lap. She was starting to feel bad about her furious reaction, but she wasn't quite ready to apologize for her behavior. "Why should I tell you anything?"

Hissing out an agitated breath, Soul rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Forget I asked." Rotating his injured shoulder to make sure he could move it – landing on that hardwood floor had hurt – he turned to leave.

"…wait."

Soul had half a mind just to keep walking and leave Maka stewing in her unpredictable mood swings by herself, but he found himself pausing. Yes, he had to admit to himself that part of it was the apology he heard in her voice, but mostly it was the fact that he'd never purposely deserted his partner when she was in need; sore arm and aggravation about her recent antics aside, he wasn't about to start now.

"What."

The rapidly forming bruise on his shoulder didn't necessarily mean he had to be gracious about it, however.

"Look, I'm sorry." As rare as it was for Maka to lose control of her emotions, it was even more unusual for her to sound so forlorn. Soul turned around, taking in her hunched shoulders and drawn-up knees. She scrubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands, then looked up at him, smiling wanly. "I probably shouldn't have pushed you off of the bed."

"Damn straight." He knew that he really shouldn't ask the question foremost on his mind – she had plenty of ammo in the form of thick books on her nightstand, well within reach for a room-spanning Maka Chop – but he wanted to know, if only to confirm or eliminate one possible reason for her current behavior. "At the risk of long distance and possible permanent injury to my head, I gotta ask: are you on the rag?"

Maka scowled at him. "You've got such a way with words. No, I'm not. And I hope you realize the only reason I'm not bashing your skull in for asking something like that so tactlessly is because I still feel a little bad about your abrupt visit with the floor. However," she warned with an upraised finger as he started to grin, "don't push your luck."

"Whatever you say." Soul studied her face, sliding his hands inside the pockets of his pajama pants. "At least you're acting more like yourself."

"Well, that's good to know, I guess. I don't…" She trailed off, looking pensive.

"Eh?"

"Never mind." Shaking her head, Maka scooted down in her bed, dropping her head on her pillow. "I'll see you in the morning, 'kay?"

Soul frowned slightly. He'd thought she'd gotten all the weird emotional crap out of her system, but if there was more to it… "Are you sure-"

"I'll tell you when I'm ready, Soul. Promise." With a tired – but genuine – smile, she turned on her side towards the wall, a blatant signal that their conversation was at an end.

Soul stared at her back for a moment. "I'm going to hold you to that, Maka. There shouldn't be any secrets between us – it's not cool." He slipped out of her room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

This wasn't the first time Maka had acted strangely out of character, Soul mused as he crawled into bed. There had been several other occurrences, spanning the course of the last several months. And it wasn't even the first time – or the twentieth – that her erratic temperament had resulted in a furious attack upon his person.

Speaking of which…he could definitely rule out PMS as a plausible excuse for her behavior, and as he almost had a better sense of when her "time of the month" was coming than she did (she hadn't purchased and consumed vast quantities and varieties of chocolate in the past few days, nor had she been gobbling ibuprofen like it was candy), he felt confident that her scornful denial was nothing less than the truth.

What was bothering him about this latest instance of weird behavior was the fact that she'd left the apartment that morning in high spirits, happily looking forward to spending time with some of the other DWMA meisters and weapons. Her doleful responses to his questions when she came home had set little warning bells off in the back of Soul's mind. The fake smile Maka had given him before shuffling off to her room had made those alarms ring louder; something must have happened during the day, as he'd had no prior indicators that she was going to come home in such a dejected mood.

He'd decided to let her be in her room for a while; Soul had learned over the years they'd been partners and roommates that pestering her too soon after one of her erratic mood swings generally led to him getting hurt in highly painful and possibly illegal ways, and at the end of it all he'd never find out just what the hell was wrong with her in the first place until she'd calmed down.

The way he figured it, he'd gotten off lucky tonight with just a shove to the floor and a bruised shoulder. God knew he'd gotten worse for less.

Maybe Maka considered his inquisitiveness about her general health and well-being as nosy, but dammit all to hell, if he didn't look out for her, she'd wind up doing something reckless and impulsive and just plain stupid! How was he in the wrong for wanting to know if his meister was doing all right? Their partnership depended on several factors, one of those being a functional, balanced emotional state between him and Maka. It made life at home, school and on the battlefield a lot easier to cope with; it made dealing with the black blood currently humming through his veins much less of a burden than by all rights it should be. If there was something wrong with Maka's physical, mental or emotional state, he wanted to know about it so he could do something about it, if at all possible.

Damn stubborn girl.

But...Soul had to honestly admit to himself that he really couldn't imagine his life without Maka. It sometimes amazed him that somebody so straightforward, impulsive, nerdy and stubborn (and violent, can't forget that) could resonate so seamlessly with his soul, occupy such a large portion of his daily thoughts, and hold his fragile heart hostage. In the shade of her leaf-green eyes, he could always find shelter from the hardships of the outside world.

Great. Now he was getting all mind-numbingly mushy and poetic. Even mentally spouting crap like that was the epic height of uncoolness; he couldn't even begin to imagine actually saying that to Maka. Her friendship meant the world to him, and he wasn't about to upset that balance by hinting that maybe, just maybe...he wanted more from her than just friendship.

Sightlessly gazing at his ceiling, Soul allowed himself a small sliver of hope that perhaps the time when he could tell her that would come soon.

After all, tomorrow was another day. And another chance.

Bleagh. Pointless word vomit or semi-decent writing, I can't tell. (I'm heavily leaning towards the former.)

More to come, when I can - at the very least, another chapter before the end of 2012 - 'cause I'm gonna finish this story even if it kills me! *determined*

A big, beautiful THANK YOU! goes out to all of you who've reviewed and favorited this story - may I possess the skills to reward your patience with something worthwhile!