There was an instance I was sitting in her room. Or perhaps it was my cell, it's difficult to remember. What I can recall is the warmth and security I felt while sitting on the edge of a bed as her fingers streaked gently through my hair, followed by the smooth track of a brush.

There isn't much to the memory, to be honest. It was just us, and she hummed softly to herself as she brushed my hair, occasionally taking up my lavender locks in her hands to get out a knot, then setting it back again and continuing with her slow, methodical brushing. It didn't take long before my cheeks became a light shade of lavender themselves, so I drew my arms close into my chest to disrupt the flow of the feeling making way there. What I was feeling was nothing to be acknowledged, I would tell myself. This feeling was normal between friends, wasn't it? I wouldn't know about that, so I shouldn't go making assumptions.

"Does that feel better, Crona?" she asks, voice distant and fuzzy, but I jolt from her speaking anyway.

"Uh, yeah, Maka, thanks." But I don't want her to stop. I want to stay here in this room, where I feel so comfortable I wonder if this truly is reality, or if we've somehow slipped into some other dimension.

"You sure?" Maka's hands run through my hair again, as if sizing up the texture. "It still feels like there're a few tangles in here."

I shrug my bowled shoulders as nonchalantly as possible. "I-I dunno..." So she continued to brush my hair, and we remained in that dimension separated from reality of peaceful quietness, the only sound being of the brush through my lavender locks, the only sensation being Maka's smooth fingers running through my hair.

That was a lie. Lady Medusa used to brush my hair. When I was little, before I was made to be the Demon Swordsman, she took good care of me. She helped me get dressed, fed me, and brushed my hair. I remember her fixing my hair into different arrangements with her deft, vector arrow-polished fingertips, frowning at me through the reflection in the mirror.

I never felt so secure when she tended to me, though... I never felt this warm when Lady Medusa's slithering fingers pushed through my hair, jerking me one way or the other, as she scolded me to stop slouching, snipping off the little pieces one by one, letting them drop to the floor.

On the contrary, I'm astonished at Maka's tenderness, how gracefully her fingers find the knots in my hair and work them out. Lady Medusa would often tell me how frayed and thin my hair had become, and threaten to cut more off if I didn't take better care of it. I would always agree to her terms and promise to work on it, – I would wash it better and brush it better, – but Lady Medusa was never satisfied with my efforts and always ended up cutting off more and more, until I was left with the scraggly, uneven patches of hair I have now.

She speaks up. "You know, Crona... your hair is really smooth."

"Huh?!" I breathe out, alarmed.

"It reminds me of a silk quilt," she compliments, hands moving rhythmically again. "Although there are some rough spots and tangles in the design, that doesn't undermine the overall beauty of the entire quilt."

I blubber a response, waving my arms frantically. "E-eh?! Y-you don't need to say such things, Maka, my hair really is nothing special at all!" I turn around, since my back is to her, facing her so her hands are forced out of my hair. "M-my hair is just patchy and uneven... none of the nice things you were saying."

"Oh Crona, who was it that told you that? Lady Medusa?"

My gaze drifts to the wall behind her. "I-I..."

"Crona..."

"Hm?" Maka's expression shows worry, which strikes up the heat in my cheeks.

Maka smiles and points at me. "Your cheeks are all red!" she banters lightly.

"Wh-what?!" I grab my cheeks and turn away, fully embarrassed. "I'm s-sorry, I didn't mean to –" But before I can finish my sentence, Maka has pulled me into an embrace, causing my cheeks only to burn even more. My cheeks, and the feeling in my chest, blazing like a hot coal fed more oxygen to burst into flame.

"Please..." Maka's voice wavers, and her arms squeeze slightly tighter around me, impeding on my gasps of breath. "Please, don't let that stupid witch rule your life anymore. Not while you're here at DWMA, with people who will care for you and treat you with care like you deserve." She sits up and I see tears shimmering on the edge of those green orbs. She smiles again, wiping the tears away. "Okay?"

I nod silently, unsure what to say in response. Someone like me... someone like me can't answer to such affection. Someone like me can't receive such affection without feeling something other than confusion. It's just not... something I'm capable of feeling. But then what's this warmth I feel inside of me whenever I'm in Maka's presence? I find myself asking. Friendship. It has to be friendship, I answer assuredly. But I hadn't thought I was capable of that either. What a strange turn of events had brought me here...

"Maka...?" My lips move, but not of my own volition. Suddenly I just find myself speaking.

Her eyes lock onto mine, which makes me fidget under her sympathetic, empathetic gaze. "Yes...?"

I avert my stare to my lap, where I clench and unclench my fingers around the soft, dark folds of my dress. "I... uh..." Eventually, I gain enough courage to look her in the face. "I'm glad to have you as a friend!" I blurt rather loudly, then sink back in my seat at the loudness of my voice. "S-sorry, that wasn't meant to be so lou –"

She pulls me into another hug, silencing my apology. "I'm glad too, Crona... I'm glad too..."

I lift my arms around her and close my eyes.

Opening my eyelids, I find nothing but darkness. Darkness and madness, exactly what I'm used to, exactly where I belong. This place, sealed off from the rest of the world, sealed off from the world that caused me so much pain and sorrow, yet so much love and happiness. This place gives me time to think, grants me time to reflect on all the things I've endured, all the atrocities I've committed, and all the tenderness I received in return.

I really did not deserve Maka Albarn. I didn't deserve to meet her, to be friends with her, to share hugs with her... but I had. And because of her, I don't mind being trapped here in eternal darkness. I can't feel the madness oozing out of the Kishin's cocoon, far on the other side of this abyss. I can only recall Maka's warmth and words the many days I spent, ungrateful, oblivious, unseeing...

Thanks to Maka, my lonely fate is bearable. So I thank you, Maka Albarn, for the life you gave someone as undeserving as me.

Ah let's see... CroMa was my second OTP? Back in 8th grade? And I'm only just now writing something for it. I dunno either. Also I'll just say I really did not like the Soul Eater manga ending, but it's the canon ending so there's nothing I can do about that.

This is technically my first Soul Eater fic, so please be sure to tell me what you think!