Author's Note: I don't own Soul Eater! I don't own Linkin Park either, though this story does indeed bear a kinda strong (read: almost exact) resemblance to my favorite album of theirs. Kinda wish I did own them, though, cause then I could take Mike Shinoda out whenever I wanted and have him do way cool mixes for me at parties~

Also yes, I should probably mention... this is my first fic. Be gentle, but be honest. And above all, let me know what you think!

The Hybrid Theory

"Once the anchor of reason has been cut, one's craft may go anywhere." – Brand Blanshard

"Neither should a ship rely on one small anchor, nor should life rest on a single hope." – Epicetus

Soul shuffled around in the dark of the apartment, not even bothering to lift up his feet as he dragged his body into the kitchen and collapsed into a chair. The seat creaked loudly in protest, matching the tone of every complaining muscle in his body. He dropped his head onto the table with an audible thunk.

He was hungry, and thirsty, and he could feel a myriad of other basic needs tugging at his psyche, but he couldn't move a damn muscle to satisfy any of them. So he didn't.

Resonance was exhausting. Despite its undeniably cool tendency to transform Maka and himself into a perfectly molded ass-kicking machine, the aftermath always left his head reeling and his body spent. Especially lately.

As much as Soul hated to admit it, something was up with their resonance link. Over the past few months, resonance had been getting more and more difficult to maintain. He didn't understand it.

He opened his eyes against the table, taking in each grain in the wood with his eyes; two pools of lava stagnating, pondering. He began to run over the past few months in his mind, digging through his memories, yet again, to figure out why this could be happening.

When they got ready to resonate, it still started the same as always. They'd do their hokey little "let's go, soul resonance!" bit. They'd get that kick-start of power, that incredible feeling made of one part strength, two parts confidence and trust, and that little hint of intimacy that always knocked him a little breathless. (Not that he'd ever admit it; cool guys do not lose focus and jump their shit over something as basic as soul resonance.)

Regardless, they'd throw their game faces on. Everything would be great. Pre-kishins dying, witches crying… perfectly fine.

And then something would slip. They would fall out of sync, somehow. They were still able to fight, but he could feel the break in their resonance gnawing at him. In almost every single battle these days, the entire thing inevitably went to shit.

Of course, then he had the pleasure of listening to Black*Star's 'advice' afterwards. Somehow the ninja's well-intentioned wisdom nuggets such as 'Even your resonance knows I'm the best, it quails beneath me!' or 'If you had bowed down to that shrine of me I gave you last year like I told you to do, this wouldn't be happening!' weren't making the problem any better.

In one way, Soul supposed it made sense. They'd both been training, constantly pushing each other. All they ever did was work harder to get continuously stronger. As such, the amount of energy they could produce and exchange had continued to build. Their souls were able to undertake more strain. So much energy, pent-up and transferred between the two of them at such a rate, was bound to start taking its toll eventually, right?

Maybe they'd plateaued. Perhaps this was the strongest they'd be able to get, at least for now. And now their resonance was paying the price.

There. Legitimate explanation.

Of course, there could be another reason for their recent resonance plight.

Soul squeezed his eyes tight, trying to push this evermore potent thought out of his mind.

The idea that he knew full well why their resonance was failing had originally been oh-so-courteously dropped on him by that lecherous asshole of a demon, who Soul had subsequently informed that he should probably shut his demonic pie-hole unless he wanted those stupid goat horns removed from his scalp and stuck in a much less comfortable place.

… But he knew that lately, the thought had started to come into his mind unbidden, without the demon's help.

He was fighting it. He fought it so damn hard.

Sighing, he folded his arms around his head on the tabletop and let out a slow, drawn-out breath.

He knew that this would screw everything up. It affected their resonance, it was true, but the alternative was absolutely inexcusable. She couldn't know, he wouldn't let it happen; wouldn't let it destroy everything they'd accomplished as a pair. He wondered now if she could feel the echo of it in their resonance, just before he clammed up and shut himself off. Cut off his end of the link, so she couldn't feel it when his mind started to gravitate away from the look of the fight and a lot more toward the way she looked while fighting.

It was his control that truly slipped, he knew. Resonance sent his mind into overdrive until it was all too much; her petite hands wrapped tightly around him, heart rates racing, that warm feeling in his chest like melted butter doused in flames that dripped through his chest and overwhelmed his senses as their souls merged together…

Yup, too much. Gah. Even thinking about it made his palms sweat.

He had to get a handle on it. What could he do, not resonate with her for the rest of his life? Obviously not an option.

It's not like the dreams were helping, either, he thought traitorously before he could stop himself.

No, damnit. He wouldn't think about it.

He wouldn't think about the dreams, those eyes, green and honest and perfect and boring into his, or that familiar echo of his desire in her hands as she tugged him upwards and melded their lips together—

"Soul?"

Soul's eyes went wide in shock against the surface of the table. He just managed to reign in his reaction enough to keep from jumping, much to the relief of his still-aching shoulder blades. Taking a deep breath and putting on what he hoped was an innocent face to replace his less-than-innocent reverie, Soul lifted his head up in silence and was greeted by the wavering smile and fidgety fingers of his meister.

She was worried about him again; he didn't even need to meet her gaze to see it. Wordlessly reaching an arm out to her, he watched as she smiled wider and began to tiptoe slowly over to him, finally bending down and wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulders. He let out a breath, relaxing slightly in her proximity.

"It's three in the morning," she whispered, looking down at him. He could feel the concern radiating out of every inch of her, spreading all the way to the fingertips that rested warmly along his collar bone. It lessened the ache in his shoulders considerably.

He shrugged and said, "Couldn't sleep. Too much hurts."

Soul watched as the familiar crease formed between her eyebrows – the one where he's said something that's upset her, but not enough for her to comment. He rolled his eyes and tugged on the arm that rested against his shoulder.

"Aw, come on Maka, I'm fine," he said, throwing together his best attempt at a crooked grin, even though the tendons in his cheek didn't really seem to be capable of movement at that moment. "It's not like I don't know how to take a beating. I do live with you, after all," he added snidely, chuckling at how her fingers twitched against him, itching to grab the dictionary on the counter.

He smirked. He knew she wouldn't do it, not when they'd been fighting all day and she was already worried about finding him dead on the kitchen table in the middle of the night. One of the few advantages of his post-resonance hangover was the fact that he could bait her a little without any risk of getting chopped.

Not that he didn't bait her anyway. For Soul, messing with Maka was usually a bit like playing with a venus fly trap. Curiosity got him every time. He knew he'd get his hand bitten off if he messed with it, but he just couldn't help but poke and prod it a little, just to see what happened.

As a result, he'd discovered a little cranium pain was essentially always worth facilitating a reaction. The angry glint in her eye, the swiftness of her movements, the triumphant smile of retribution… it was when she was at her most sexy– sensei! He meant sensei! 'Cause… 'cause it's cool to see how much she knows about fighting. So he could learn. Knowing about your meister's reflexes and stuff is useful for a weapon.

Yeah. Strictly professional. … Definitely, definitely not sexy. Damn.

Maka stood up slowly and pulled up a chair next to him, resting her head on his shoulder gently. His body started to protest again but he beat the feeling back; he'd prioritize a nice platonic moment (well, platonic for one of you, anyway, his sleep-deprived brain chimed in, and he beat that back too) with his meister over a little discomfort any day. Particularly because it was relatively hard to ever feel close to her these days, with their resonance getting cut off every five minutes.

"It'll get better soon, I promise," she whispered, reading his mind. He watched her hands clench against the table. "I have a plan."

Soul sighed, drifting closer to sleep now that he had an extremely comfortable headrest not two inches from his face to lean against.

"And what would that be?" he yawned, rubbing his eyes with an arm. Hmm, maybe he should go to sleep. A pro-con list involving soft mattresses compared with his bony, negative-four-percent body weight meister (not like that would keep you from sleeping against her if she let you, his subconscious chimed in again unprovoked) started to form in his mind.

Alright, heading to bed was officially a good plan. Sleep-deprived Soul was a bit too forward, it seemed, and sitting in the dark all crushed up against Maka was vexing enough for his self-control without all of these additional ideas floating around in his brain.

She must have felt his body start to slump against her, because she slipped an arm around him again and slowly started to pull him upward.

"Wanna try to sleep? We have to be up for school in a couple hours," she said. The thought made him never want to leave the apartment again.

As she half-carried him to his room, he dimly remembered that she had mentioned a fix for their resonance problem, and he muttered sleepily, "What was your plan?"

She dumped him gently onto his bed and started to bunch his legs up, helping him slide under the covers like a babysitter watching an effing six-year-old, but somehow he found it difficult to mind.

"You'll see!" she whispered brightly, nudging him back against his pillows. "I've been talking to Stein."

He quirked a tired eyebrow at her. That couldn't be good.

She giggled softly, and slowly tucked in his covers on the side where she stood. Instead of reaching over him to tuck in the other side, she looked back up at him.

"Don't worry. I bet you'll think it's really cool," she smiled.

A little miffed that this whole little intimate tucking-in session had already come to a close, Soul merely grunted and shut his eyes.

"Seriously, it'll be cool," he heard her promise again. And then he was asleep.