Nightmares and Daydreams

Chapter One: Nightmares.

Footsteps echoed on the stone steps as unknown forces pulled him further down into the abyss of the unknown. It was a narrow corridor that he traveled along. Dark stone surrounded him on all sides, the only speck of light being the melting candle he noticed was in his hand. No windows or doors existed. Logic didn't exist either; he just kept walking down a ceaseless flight of spiral stairs. The repercussions of shoes on stone hurt his head and he wanted to stop, but he couldn't. He had to keep moving. He had to find something, anything. There had to be a reason he was here.

And suddenly, a flash.

All he could see was blood. The stairs were gone. Looking down, he saw his reflection in the lake of red. He stood in a pool of the liquid as it crept higher and higher until he was knee deep in it. At this point the boy realized he could move, so he ran to find a way out. Anything was better than this place, even the stairs, but the blood pulled him under. He was drowning…

Another flash.

He tumbled to meet the hard ground, landing on the floor of a curiously familiar church. Swiveling around, he caught sight of pink. It was a boy, or at least he thought it was a boy, with oddly cut pink hair and a tight black gown. This newcomer wielded a demonic slate sword dripping with cherry blood. Whose blood was it? Not his own, for he felt no pain. So whose could it be? He looked beside him. A girl with ash blonde hair tied into pigtails sat on her knees. Her eyes were moss green, but he watched the light go out of them, turning them near grey. Her clothes were already soaked in blood and her long, slender legs stuck out awkwardly from where she sat. She looked up to face him, betrayal written all over her dying face. Her lifeless expression impaled him with the force of a freight train. He knew this face. He loved this face. Why was it here? Why was it dying? And above all else, why didn't he stop it?

Soul's eyes opened and he caught sight of his ceiling. He gasped for air, his lungs overworking to keep up with the insane beating of his heart. Instantly he sat up, making sure he was actually awake and in his own room and his own reality. The sound of his own panting filled his ears. The scythe desperately tried to steady himself, but an image he couldn't quite grasp haunted his mind…

The dream came rushing back all at once. Maka had died. He had stood by idly and watched. How could he do that, even if it was a dream? His heart picked up the pace yet again. She couldn't be dead. He would never let that happen. He would be gone from this world long before death ever crossed her path; of this the white-haired boy was absolutely certain. He ripped the sheets off of himself and rushed out of bed, an instant dizziness overtaking him and causing him to fall into the wall. He didn't care. He'd run into a thousand walls without care. He had to see her. Was she safe?

Soul proceeded to run down the hall, typhlotic in the darkness, and nearly break the Maka's door in his urgency to open it. He saw her wrapped in an absurd amount of blankets, dozing. The girl's breathing was a slow and steady, careful inhaling and exhaling of the frigid air. The cold, which had not touched him before, now wriggled its way in between his fingers and toes and curled around his exposed ears. An electric shiver ran down his spine as his breathing slowed to the tempo of the blonde's. He slumped against the doorframe, relief spinning around his brain, making him all the more dizzy.

Maka stirred, feeling a presence in her room. She sleepily turned towards the door and slowly peered through tired eyelids. Upon spotting Soul in her doorway, her eyes widened and she sat up shivering, her thin T-shirt not doing much to retain the heat from her comforter. Why was he here? Was something wrong?

"Maka…" Soul began to say, his voice thick with sleep. He meandered slowly to her bedside and then knelt down, head falling forward on her bed and arms hugging each other in a vain attempt to keep warm. Why was it so damn cold…?

"Soul!" Maka squeaked, utterly flabbergasted at Soul's presence. He was freezing, she realized as she leant to the side of the bed to touch his bare shoulder. Why the hell was he not wearing a shirt on a night like this? Even with all of the windows closed, the desert winter made itself at home inside their meager apartment. However, she knew he was a fitful sleeper, constantly plagued by insomnia and bad dreams. Maka had often found him in the middle of the night, leaning against the kitchen counter with an empty carton of milk at his side, staring across the room to the window and the Shibusen city lights beyond. On nights such as those, she would stay up with him in a silent vigil until he would gently reach for her hand and lead her down the hallway to her bedroom, wishing her a goodnight. From there, she would wait to hear his bedroom door click shut before letting sleep take her over. She always worried about him not getting enough sleep, and hoped that those nights she was able to comfort him and that he was able to sleep soundly afterwards.

But this night was different. Soul was in her room, kneeling at her bedside, shuddering from cold or fear or quite possibly both. As her warm hand made contact with his skin, he looked up. His normally crimson eyes seemed a bit dull in this dark lighting, and paired with the white hair that shone in the moonlight from her window, he seemed rather like an apparition. She frowned. Something was up.

"Are you okay, Soul?"

"Mm."

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Mm."

Her grimace deepened. Why was he here? What did he want from her? Did he— a choking sound interrupted her thoughts. She looked down to see the white-haired boy's body shudder, quiet sobs rattling his body. Without thinking, she crept out of her bed and onto the arctic floor with him, hugging him, hoping desperately that whatever was happening was something she could fix. That's what she did. She fixed him. When he had a bad attitude, she fixed it, whether that entailed a fierce MAKA-CHOP! or a reassuring smile in his direction. When he felt down, she talked to him about her books or watched cheesy horror movies with him into the wee hours of the morning just to get his mind off of whatever was bothering him. He never really said thank you, but she didn't mind. Seeing him around school with that 'cool' smile of his was thanks enough.

Maka thought about these things as she held her silently crying weapon. She might not understand him all the time and they might butt heads more often than not, but when it came down to it, they would do anything for each other, even risk their lives.

"You're alive…" Soul breathed into Maka's loose hair, his voice shaking but much more under control than he would have guessed it would be. Her arms were warm.

"Of course I am, why wouldn't I be?" Maka inquired, intrigued by his relieved statement.

"You…Crona…I didn't…"

"What about Crona?"

"Killed you…I didn't…anything."

Maka's eyes widened. Why would Soul think Crona would kill her?

"Could you elaborate?"

Soul sighed, steadying his voice and controlling the shaking of his body. "We were back in Italy in that church. Crona killed you. I didn't do anything," he shuddered, "I'm so sorry…"

Was that it? She had heard much more chilling dreams come from his morbid brain. This one was almost funny. Crona, who was now a very close friend of both of theirs, wouldn't dream of killing Maka. In fact, he had saved her and nearly sacrificed his own in their brawl with the witch Medusa. Why would Soul have this nightmare? She couldn't even contain it as she let out a small giggle, her cheeks pinking at the entire situation. Here she was, thinking Soul had had some horrific nightmare that would constitute him entering her room, and all he could offer was some dream about Crona killing her? It obviously had shaken him, but seriously…

"It's not funny Maka," Soul growled menacingly. She didn't get it, did she?

"I'm sorry Soul, it's just that Crona wouldn't kill me," she giggled, not detecting the warning in his voice.

"MAKA, that's not what I'm saying!" Soul roared suddenly, pulling away from his meister to grip her shoulders and look her right in her mossy green eyes, "It doesn't matter who killed you. All that matters is that you died. And I stood right there! I didn't do anything! I was alive while you were dead. I can't…I can't ever let that happen…" he trailed off, looking down at the floor, his head still slightly spinning. He let his hands drop to his sides again.

Maka sat dumbfounded. She began to recall memories of him shielding her from Crona's blow. Ragnarok had nearly split him in two. Hazy flashbacks of blood and utter terror came rushing back. She had hid these memories away for quite some time. It did no good to dwell on the past, especially one so bloody as that. As she sat, she began to feel the same vexation as she had before. That anger was an urge to become stronger so that she would never have to watch Soul take the blow for her again. Upon rekindling this old fire, she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him as close as she could manage.

"Maka," the albino boy put simply, a hint of surprise in his voice. He slowly wrapped his arms around her as well, feeling her warmth engulf him. She was alive. He repeated this fact in his head over and over again, until the words seemed almost alien.

The ash blonde pulled away from the boy. She put her finger on his chest and then traced his scar down. He watched her curiously. Her touch was like electricity. It brought goose bumps to the surface, although he told himself that was a side effect of the cold. Upon finishing tracing her hand down his scar, she looked him in the eye.

"Look, Soul. That scar is proof that you didn't let anything happen to me. As hard as it was for me to handle it after it happened, I've accepted it now. You don't need to worry about me. I'm alive." Maka smiled at him.

"Alive or not, I'm always going to worry about you, bookworm," Soul assured as he stood up, his hand on her head, ruffling her hair. He began to head for the door when he felt a zap of electricity on his fingertips. She had reached for him. Maybe it wasn't the cold after all. He turned to face the girl, who was now on her feet.

There was something about that moment that struck his soul. It was as if the world froze for a moment and he became lost in thought. All around, the truth bore into him. The truth was that it was very possibly below freezing and neither of them was dressed accordingly. The truth was that the T-shirt she had on was actually a long lost band shirt of his which he had given up on finding. The truth was that she looked damn good in it as its thin fabric clung to her equally thin figure. The truth was that in that moment, he was completely lost in her. Her tangled ash blonde hair and her sleepy moss green eyes and her able arms and her neverending legs and her flushed face and the way her breath escaped from her chapped lips all pulled him in at once.

"Why don't you stay in here for the night?" Maka asked, not believing for one second that those words were actually coming out of her own mouth.

Normally, he would have been surprised. Normally, he would have laughed at her and made fun of her. This time was different. This time he was completely overtaken by her sheer presence. He could feel her soul, even if he didn't have her soul perception. He would do anything for her. The scythe nodded at his meister briefly, then gently took her hand and followed her to the bed. They lied together, side by side, until Soul couldn't hold himself back anymore. He turned on his side and wrapped himself around her, his legs invisibly intertwining with hers, his arms around her, his hands finding hers. He could smell the strawberry shampoo scent in her hair as he breathed her in.

This girl he lived and breathed was his meister. He would do anything for her, even die for her. As long as he was here to protect her, his fears would never be realized. He loved her, in the sweetest simplicity of the word. As her breathing quieted and her body relaxed, the white-haired boy expected her to be asleep. He kissed the top of her head, feeling her silky hair against his lips. After waiting to see if she would stir, he sat up. Slowly, he leaned over her.

And then he kissed her.

It was a soft kiss, a quick caressing of the lips. It was a quiet, goodnight, I-love-you kiss that chased the nightmares away.

Afterwards, he lowered himself to the bed again and reinstated his prior embrace, falling asleep instantaneously and not waking up until much later the next morning.

Maka hadn't actually been asleep. After he kissed her and had fallen asleep, she opened her moss green eyes quite wide. It took everything in her power not to turn around and kiss him back.

Oh, what ever had they gotten themselves into now?

A/N: Yay, a Soul Eater fic! I've been itching to write something, ANYTHING with these two. Reviews are much appreciated!