They Were Just Words...

Disclaimer: I am neither Asian nor male, so I do not own.

Chapter 1

Intro:

It had been months since they had fought Free and months still since they had defeted Asura, but something was off. Soul had been on cooking duty, instead of Maka, and he noticed something odd.

Maka wasn't eating.

Well, she was, just not alot. He didn't have to cook as much as he thought he would, he liked having less work, but it was still disconcerting when he thought about the reason why.

Maka

She was staring in her full body mirror, Soul's wors echoing around in her head. She still had a few minutes before supper, not that she would eat much anyway.

"You have fat ankles!" Yes, she could see it now, all the fat rippling on her body. It was disgusting, she didn't understand how soul could stand to look at her, let alone eat near her. She resolved to eat less and excercize more. A lot more. She would after Soul went to sleep. He was used to her staying up into the wee hours of the night, and it wouldn't spark any unwanted idea in his head. At least thats what she hoped.

"Maka, food!" She heard from the kitchen. Maka went into the kithcen and took little of everything. Little as in barely enough to fill three quarters of her plate. Soul saw and eyed her carefully.

"Maka, you alright? You haven't been eating much."

"Hmmm? Yeah, I'm fine, just haven't been feeling my best is all."

"Alright." And that was that. Partners trust partners, otherwise they wouldn't be able to resonate and thusly, wouldn't be partners. Did Soul trust Maka with everything? No. He didn't trust her with his past, besides, his past was past and that was that. Did she trust him with everything? Of course not, he was a man, and Maka didn't trust ANY man. Her Papa had irreversibly damaged her, scarring her for life. Their night was mainly uneventful, Soul worrying when Maka got up with her dinner, barely half the food eaten. He needed to know what was up with his mei-wait.

Worrying?

Needed?

It was late, his mind was f-ing with itself. Soul finished most of his homework, because cool guys don't fail, but never do all the homework assigned. He ended his night by falling face first into his mattress, but for Maka, the night was just beginnig.

She traded her usual skirt, vest, tie, and coat for short-shorts, a tank top, and running shoes and set off. She started in the park so that she could circle. Her job was to become a strong meister, and turn Soul into a Death Scythe. Sh couldn't do that if she was fat.

Fat. That dreaded word. The one that tore a whole in her heart and forced her into overdrive.

Her routine is so common anymore it was almost ritualistic. Maka stretches her muscles (so that no one would end up questioning why she was sore.) and starts running.

Running.

Running.

Running, running, and more running. Just one foot in front of the other. Her breath came in short pants and her whole chest burned with the exertion she was putting out. Maka ran throughout the streets of Death City, through the alleys, past each one of her friends homes, and back to the park. Once her circle of steps was completed she started on the second half of her routine. High jumps onto a bench, 15 reps. That was her normal routine, but she could see the disgust in his eyes as they ate dinner, so she worked harder.

Push ups.

Sit ups.

Lunges.

Inch worms.

And more running, but home this time. She got home around 3:00, four hours before she'd have to get up and pretend that she couldn't see the disgust in everyones eyes when they looked at her. Maka fell into bed without changing, she was too tired and too sore. She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

(Hey look, a line break)

Pain. That was the first thing she registered when she woke up. Hunger came next-which she promptly ignored-and then wondering. Wondering what time it was. She looked at her clock, 7:10, five minutes before her God-forsaken alarm would go off.

'Screw it,' she thought. Maka turned her alarm off and headed for the shared bathroom. It was early enough that Soul would be in bed, dreaming about whatever it was that self-proclaimed cool guys dreamed about. Since Soul showered at night Maka didn't have to worry about shower-wars. She disrobed and stared at herself. She seemed skinnier and her skin seemed a bit tighter, of course that could just be her tired eyes playing a trick on her.

'Maybe I'll go easy on myself today. . . eat something. Maybe.' Maka thought. The door to the bathroom opened and a fully dressed soul walked in. Maka's hands flew to cover her chest, "Soul!" The door slammed shut and Maka looked back at the mirror. Her resolve to eat nothing hardened and she climbed into the shower, turning the water on hot to soothe her aching muscles. She closed her eyes and Soul's face just a few moments earlier flashed through her mind's eye. He looked embarassed-and he should-but there was something else.

Disgust? Boredom? Displeasure?

Arousal?

Wanting?

Worry. . .?

'Stop being ridiculous,' She wouldn't let herself become entrapped in fantasies that would never come true. 'It was nothing but disgust,' her final decision.

But she was wrong. It was worry. Because what Sould had seen-besides the usual of course-was the very faint outlining of her ribs.

AN: So, Ive decided to start a new story, I actually killed a notebook with this thing, its about 38 pages and 6 chapters written ^^ I'll try to update every week or so, sooner if I know that I'll be unable to update and later if I'm sick or shit hits the fan. I'd appreciate a review on this thing, but you know, it can be might hard to motivate people to review *sigh* so I'll just wait and see what becomes of this thing.