Author's Note: Why hello there! I discovered Soul Eater just recently, while I was dealing with a mental health crisis of my own, and absolutely fell in love with Crona. This is my very first Soul Eater fiction, so hopefully I've managed to capture the characters. I have aged them a few years, just because I didn't feel it was appropriate to tell the story I want to tell with such young folks. So as you read, think mid-teens. Also, although not overall disturbing or graphic, there will be parts that were written to be unsettling or explicit, so I've categorized this as horror and given it a mature rating. It also has a fair amount of romance and (perhaps obviously) Soul Eater style science. I'm a chemist, so I couldn't pass up such an opportunity.

Any way, that is everything I have to say! Hopefully you all have as much fun reading as I did writing!

Why are you shaking?

Because… I'm afraid.

What are you afraid of?

Everything…

Yes, but what specifically?

Everything.

Crona, tell me. What do you fear? What scares you more than anything else?

Snakes coiling around his body. Binding his arms, holding him helpless. Not that this is any different from usual. He was always helpless before her. Always bound by her serpents. Their smooth bodies press into him, constricting, encasing him in a living shell of writhing mass. They're so cold. He can feel them. Around his throat. Forked tongues whisper at his jaw line.

It's pointless to resist; you're mine. You could never betray me. You were made to be used by me. I created you, formed you from my own flesh for my own purpose. There is no other life.

But that wasn't right. He wasn't hers. Not anymore. He was a person, not an object. He had a choice and he'd chosen to leave her.

Now Crona, that's simply not true. I never gave you the ability to choose. Everything you have ever done has been according to my wishes. Is that what you fear? Being my vessel? Being my puppet?

A snake presses the pit of its nose to his lips. It's trying to get into his mouth. It's trying to slither down into his stomach and take over his body. Displace his mind. Override his soul.

He can't. His lips tighten over his clenched teeth and he tries to turn away. He doesn't want that thing inside him. Not again. Never again. The serpents around his neck hold him in place, tightening, choking him. If he panics, if he opens his mouth to gasp, to suck in air, then the snake will get in. In the past he would never have lasted this long, but things are different now. People are there for him. They call him their friend. Crona has friends, but if the snake gets back into him that won't matter. He'll hurt them… He'll kill them… He doesn't want to kill them. Doesn't want to kill her.

You've always been a disappointing child. So fragile. You allowed those people to break you and call it friendship, how pathetic. No matter; I'll take the results from this failed experiment and make a new child. It will be simpler this time. As for you, Crona. You can just die. Perhaps that is what you fear the most. Let's test it, shall we?

Something's gotten in. He can feel it in his gut. In one side and out the other. It's cut through him. Only after that realization does the pain hit, like nothing he's ever felt before. Aching, burning, tearing, agony. The pain is fine. He knows how to deal with pain. But this cold, this sensation of draining, the wetness. Death is coming and he's not ready yet. A scream boils in his stomach, but it can't get out with the blood. It needs to find another way. His lips part as he tries to release it, but the snake is too fast. It dives into his mouth, stifling his voice and burrowing down his throat. His eyes roll back and then… Then he's not Crona anymore.

He woke up in terror, sweating and shaking and flailing. The bed sheets cocooned him and, when he'd been falling asleep, the swaddling had been comforting. Now it felt like something else. He hit the wooden floor hard, kicking and clawing, trying to escape from the cloth and the reptiles it represented. His breath came in erratic pants, somehow synchronizing with the wild darting motions his eyes were making. Blackness. Everywhere was blackness. Just like his blood.

His back hit the wall and he curled into it, scooting across the floor until he could feel the twin pressure of a corner. Only then did reason take its first tentative steps back into his mind. Shaking violently, Crona pulled his knees to his chest and buried his face into them. He was awake, in his room, away from Medusa. Somewhere inside he understood that. And yet. And yet!

"Seriously, this again?! Of all the meisters I had to get stuck with the most pathetic one on the face of the planet." Ragnarok loomed over Crona's head, taking a fistful of his pale pink hair and giving it a tug. When the meister didn't respond he hesitated, reconsidering the situation. Then he tugged harder, attempting to forcibly jerk him out of his stupor.

"Ragnarok…" Crona choked, gripping his knees more tightly. "I… I'm scared…I don't know what to do…"

"Come on Crona, it's just a dumb dream. You've had these before, just get over it!"

The pounding of his heart was overwhelming, nausea rolled in his stomach, sweat poured down his face and back. Death was coming; death was coming for him. There was nothing he could do, no way to slow it, no way to stop it. Madness creeping in his flesh, eroding him, cutting him, until there was nothing left. No life. No friends. No Crona. He couldn't breathe. His gasps were doing nothing. Death was coming.

"Hey man, you okay in here?" Soul's voice sounded from the door, rich and warm, but low. Quiet. "I thought I heard something fall. Crona?"

The weapon's crimson eyes swept the room, narrowing when he didn't immediately find the telltale lump of someone in bed. Then he caught sight of Ragnarok pulling fistfuls of Crona's hair in the corner and recognition hardened on his face. In three steps he was kneeling before the swordsman, pointed teeth set.

"Crona, listen to me. You are safe. This is a panic attack; you'll be fine."

"Dumb ass! I tried that already!"

"Shit," Soul swore, digging into his sleep addled brain, trying to remember what he was supposed to do when this happened.

"Uhg, do something. He's gonna pass out soon. I'm getting all woozy…" Ragnarok released Crona's hair and collapsed on top of his head.

"Listen man, you're hyperventilating. You need to slow your breathing. Crona? Crona, can you look at me?"

"S-Soul?" The pink-haired meister looked up from his knees tentatively. His eyes were wide and pale, ice blue. Still tied up in terror. "Soul, I- The snakes… The snakes got inside me…"

"Crona, there aren't any snakes inside you. I'm going to touch you, okay? Focus on taking slow, deep breaths. Here, we'll do it together. I'm gonna count to ten? Just focus on breathing with me." He put his hands lightly on the other's shoulders, maintaining a steady eye contact as if he could calm the frantic pants emitting from his mouth with the force of his gaze alone. Crona trembled beneath him, shaking so violently his teeth chattered.

"One," Soul started, inhaling slowly and deeply through his nose. Crona tried to follow suit, taking in a few sequential puffs. The weapon smiled encouragingly and let it out in a long, slow sigh. "That's good Crona, that's really good. Two."

They continued like that for several minutes, until Crona's breaths became more regular and he could hold his eyes in focus for more than a second. He was out of the woods, but still trembling pretty badly and Soul got the distinct impression that he was still in an extremely fragile state. Crap, now what.

"Where are your meds," he asked in a soft yet firm tone, looking intently at his charge. Even if he looked stable, Stein had explained that the panic attacks were biochemical in nature. Crona only had so much cognitive control; he was going to need help for the crisis to pass.

"B-bedside c-c-cabinet."

"Alright. I'm going to grab them for you, then get some water."

"No!" Crona's hand moved with lightning speed, his long fingers curling in Soul's shirt as he tried to move. His breath had quickened and his eyes were wide again. "D-don't leave me. I-I don't know how t-to deal with b-b-being alone right now."

"Okay…" Soul licked his lips, wondering if he needed to call for Maka. He hadn't wanted to wake her, but at the moment he wasn't seeing a lot of other options. "Wanna come with me? Can you walk?"

"I feel sick…"

"Meow, what's all the fuss about?" A purple-black cat in a witch's hat strode into the room, long tail held high in a friendly question mark. Her lamp-like eyes glinted in the dark as she surveyed the scene, taking in Crona huddled in the corner, Soul crouched before him, and Ragnarok still lounging in a field of pink hair. She blinked slowly.

"Blair," Soul snapped, urgency masking his relief. "Blair, listen: go grab Crona's meds, get some water, and for the love of god put some clothes on before you come back in here. Now!"

"Blair couldn't possibly do all of that now." Blair yawned, sitting down. "It's too much for me all by my lonesome."

"Blair, damn it, this is important!" She lifted a paw and began to groom. Lost cause. He turned his attention back to the shaking meister. Crona had the fingers of his other hand knotted in his hair and was starting to rock.

"Shit. Crona? Can Blair stay with you while I grab your meds? Would that be okay?"

He started, giving Soul a wild look. For a moment he looked like the fear had taken over him again and he'd forgotten anyone else was even there. Then recognition came onto his face and he gave a sharp nod. His breath was getting fast again, sweat dampening his face and making his hair stick. Inside, death was still coming. The worst was still happening. Blair blinked again, weighing her options and deciding to trot over to Crona's side.

"Just don't pull my tail," she said, slinking her way between his knees and chest and settling in his lap. Her purrs rumbled in his stomach, reverberating against his scar. They were warm and rhythmic and... he found himself able to breathe to that rhythm. Soul felt Crona's fingers loosen in the folds of his shirt, then fall away. "And don't let that Weapon of yours pull it either."

"Morning Soul," Maka's voice was bright as usual, unstained by the previous nights events. This was both uplifting and annoying. Soul palmed his forehead, brushing white hair out of his face and taking a seat at the table. Maka's brow creased at the extra gruffness of his demeanor. "I made eggs."

"Thanks," he groaned, letting out a heavy sigh as his hand moved to his shoulder. The muscles crunched beneath his fingertips.

"Rough night?" The inquiry was unassuming, possibly even covert if you were liberal with the definition. Soul gave her a look, which she magnified, placing a plate of fried eggs in front of him with a little more zeal than was absolutely necessary. Benefit of the doubt rescinded. He felt his lips twitch in a grin, amused at how typically Maka it was.

"Crona had another panic attack." Maka tensed, setting down a spatula and abandoning the pan on the stove and moving intently towards Crona's room. In a flash Soul was back on his feet, grabbing her arm and giving her a freezing look. "He's fine now. He's sleeping it off."

"Again?" It was more of a cry than a question, her voice suddenly tired. "Why does this keep happening to him? I thought we were past these!"

"Stein told us when he moved in: these sorts of things are going to happen, probably for the rest of his life. But they don't have to be a big deal; it's getting better."

"I doubt that."

"Look, I was there last night. We got his breathing under control just like Stein taught us, Blair and I got his meds, and in less than an hour he'd calmed down and was back asleep. It went well. I'm just sore from sleeping on his floor; that's all."

"Thank you," Maka said after a pause. She looked back over her shoulder at him, smiling warmly. Her emerald eyes held a rare softness reserved only for himself and Crona, which made him grin again. Soul released her arm and she went back to her eggs, cracking another one into the smoking pan. "For staying with him."

"What're friends for?"

"Do you know what triggered it?"

"Nightmare," he said, settling back at the table and attacking his eggs. "Said something about snakes being inside him. Doubt he'll remember it, though. I think those pills mess with him."

"Professor Stein said this new medication might alter his short term memory... Do you think he'll be up soon? Should I make him an egg?"

"You d-don't have to do that Maka." Both she and Soul started, turning back towards the bedrooms. Crona's eyes peered back at them from the middle door, though the rest of his face was still obscured by the wood. Blair slipped between his feet, strutting into the kitchen and jumping on the table.

"I would like an egg," she cooed, batting her cat eyes at Maka and looking cute. "Or a fish, since you're already cooking."

"Good morning Crona," Maka ignored Blair, taking the pan off the heat and moving back towards the shy meister. She stopped just short of the threshold, bending over and smiling as she tried to catch his eye. "Are you hungry? If you want something it's really not a problem. I've already got my apron on."

"Oh." Crona opened the door a little further and stepped out. He'd been living with them for a couple of months, but still the idea of someone else doing anything at all for him made him minimally uncomfortable. Both she and Soul had learned to be extra delicate with their phrasing, convincing him each time that it wasn't a bother. Eventually, they hoped he'd believe them.

"Food? Are we talking about food? I'm starving!" Ragnarok burst out of Crona's back, arching over his head and surveying the kitchen. The movement seemed to take a lot out of him and he collapsed into the mess of pink hair, making a frustrated noise. "Jesus, I thought drugs were supposed to make you feel good. This is awful!"

"S-sorry. I didn't-"

"You don't have to apologize Crona," Maka said in a curt voice, reaching over and taking the meister's hand in hers. "Come have some eggs while they're still warm."

"How're doing," greeted Soul, swallowing a large mouthful of egg to give the pink-haired meister a formal smile. Crona's eyes darted to him, then away again as he settled at the table. His fingers twisted in his lap and Soul's lips twitched. "What's up?"

"N-nothing. Everything's fine."

"Crona, I can see you shaking. I get it, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but don't lie about it."

"Ignore him," Ragnarok said, reaching over and taking a fistful off Soul's plate.

"Hey!"

"He just heard you two talking. Thinks he should move out again. Moron, like he'd survive a day on his own. This idiot can't even dress himself without help."

"Ragnarok," Crona squeaked, his face warming and his eyes going wide. They all sat silently for a moment, with the exception of Blair and Ragnarok, who's combined eating noises were deafening in the stillness.

"Crona… you know that we like having you here, right?" Maka's voice was soft and earnest, like late afternoon sunlight. She settled into the chair next to Crona, placing her hands out onto the table palm up. An invitation.

"What brought this on?" Soul leaned back, his face clouding in confusion.

"I-" Crona refused to look at either of them, twisting his fingers more forcefully in his lap. Shrinking away into the chair. "I had another panic attack last night. I can't stop them from happening. I don't know how to make them stop. Maka's sad because I can't make them stop and Soul's sore from sleeping on my floor and… and…"

"Listen: I don't care about being sore, alright? I would sleep on your floor every night if that's what it took."

"You can't tell me you want to sleep on my floor. That's a lie and I don't like it when you lie to me."

The crimson-eyed boy deflated a little, running his tongue over his teeth as he thought of a way to respond to that. Maka beat him to it.

"Soul doesn't mean that he wants to sleep on your floor, just that he's happy to do it if the need arises. We both are. And I'm not sad that you can't make yourself stop having panic attacks. I'm sad that you have to deal with them in the first place."

"Lies…"

"You don't get to tell us what we feel. Crona, I need you to look at me." He shuddered as if she'd asked him to do something horribly unpleasant, his body going wire taught. But he looked up anyway, his big, dark grey eyes like heavy storm clouds both in color and in tone. Maka blinked at him, her own eyes firm and faceted, reflecting more emotions than he believed a human being capable of experiencing at all, much less at the same time.

"Why would we lie?"

"Because I'm pathetic and you don't want to hurt my feelings because if you hurt my feelings then I might leave and if I left I would die because I don't know how to take care of myself."

"Dummy." Maka wanted to touch him. Badly. She wanted to brush the hair from his eyes and hold him against her chest, cradling his soul until he understood. But that wasn't their arrangement. Crona was still afraid of being touched too much, but he wouldn't admit to being uncomfortable under any circumstance, so she had to wait for him to come to her. She gave her fingers a wiggle, reminding him that they were there.

"Lying to you is what would make you leave, right? And we want you to stay. Besides, have either Soul or I ever lied to you before?"

"I don't know. I don't think so." Crona's eyes shifted around the room, like some sort of trapped animal. Soul gave her a warning look, causing Maka to let out a small sigh. Gingerly, she let her hands slip off the tabletop into her lap. Grey eyes watched them fall, expression unreadable.

"I suck at lying," said Soul, chuckling a little at himself. "Besides, I've got no reason to lie to you about anything, Crona. We're friends, so that means we're honest with each other, right?"

"I guess so… It's just… I hate being such a burden to you. Ragnarok's right; I'm useless."

"Ragnarok is so busy stuffing his face he probably won't even notice if I point out that he's never been right about anything. Especially anything concerning you." Maka smirked, shooting the Demon Sword a look. He glowered silently at her for a moment before returning to his own battle with Blair over a piece of toast.

"You're not a burden Crona; I wish you would trust us enough to believe that."

"I do trust you." Crona murmured. "More than I've ever trusted anything before in my life."

"Do you even remember last night," Soul asked, his tone starting to get a little exasperated. "You're making such a fuss about it; do you even know what happened?"

"Yes…" Crona started, uncertain. His brow knit. "The snakes got inside me and I was afraid. Then you came and… I could breathe again…"

"I found you hyperventilating in the corner, but we used one of those breathing techniques Stein taught us to get it under control. Then you told me where your meds were, I got them for you, and everything was fine. You handled it Crona. It was really impressive."

He flushed, averting his eyes.

"Yeah, if you think someone drinking some water and not peeing themselves is impressive."

"You: not helping."

"Don't you see Crona," Maka cut in, bending over the table so she could see under his uneven bangs. "You're doing really well. And not just with the panic attacks, at school and around the apartment too. Just yesterday you did the dishes and you scored better than Soul on our last exam. You used to get these attacks all the time after you recovered from your injury but now, this is the first one in weeks. I'm not saying it was nothing, but try not to fixate so much on the bad, okay?"

"Okay…" He looked up at her, the tiniest of curves tugging at his mouth. Then his eyes moved to Soul and the smile got a little bigger. "Thank you. For being with me last night."

"Don't mention it." Soul gave him a thumbs up, ignoring the fact that between Ragnarok and Blair, his breakfast was gone. Maka noticed, her chair making a scraping noise as she got up to rectify the situation. Crona reached out after her, his fingers gently brushing the back of her hand and causing her to pause. She turned, giving him a quizzical look.

"Thank you," he mumbled, blushing a little, his hand still hovering in the air close to hers. Maka smiled, closing the distance between them and interlacing her fingers with his.

"For what?"

"Just… Thank you. I don't think I could deal with the world without you."

She leaned down, brushing her forehead against his and smiling broadly. Warmth bubbled in her stomach, swelling up into her chest. Judging by Crona's blush, he was feeling something similar.

"You're welcome."