Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater.

Blind Faith
Poisoned Scarlett

She never foresaw it, never even thought it could happen to her. Who thinks these things could happen to them? So there was nothing anyone could have done to prepare her for something like this.

She went in blind and that was the irony of it all.

The punchline in the joke that was her life.

It always started off from the same scene—fingers clutching starchy sheets, legs jerking because joints felt locked, hair tickling her lips, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. The bed groaned beneath her, a hard slab that felt like it was made of complete discomfort. When she opened her eyes, there was nothing. So she tried again and there was still nothing and the fingers that clutched scratchy sheets rose up to her face, her eyes—no, the gauze that covered them, that wrapped around her head like a blindfold. And then there would come sound—very slowly, as if she were hearing them from underwater—and then the bubble would pop and their voice would come all at once and her head would hurt.

"Maka, you're awake! Thank god, the doctors said you would wake up yesterday and when you didn't…" Hands stroked her hair, pushing it away from her cheeks. Familiar hands, soft and well-taken care of. Liz Thompson, her co-worker. Her best friend. "But you're awake now, that's all that matters—Patty, Patty, she's awake! Go bring me some water! She's gotta' be thirsty…"

But she wasn't—that could wait. Everything could wait. She just wanted to know what happened; why she had a blindfold on and why her head hurt so badly. She would reach up to grab Liz but miss, grappling air instead, until the girl grabbed her hand and told her to relax because moving around so much wasn't good for her. But it was in this moment that she couldn't stop: she struggled, tried to sit up and rip the blindfold off her eyes because she could feel the warm sun bathe her arms but she couldn't see it. The thick dark that pressed behind her eyelids was too black to just have her eyes closed. Some light always shone, always, so why wasn't it like this now? Why was it so dark, so horribly black not even the darkest ink could compete?

"Maka, stop!"

That brief moment, her breath baited and her heart in her throat, she always waited for that moment. The hook.

"You can't take that off—you can never take it off!"

Dreadful anticipation, it pooled in her gut.

She wanted to throw up.

She always knew what happened next—felt it rise up from the pit of her core until it made her limbs tingly. Here it came, the line.

"You can't see, Maka."

And sinker.

"You're blind."

If she could, she would have laughed.


Maka startled awake, jerking upright in a panic. She felt the sheets get pulled off, heard the shuffle of shoes on her carpet, and then she heard his obnoxious laughter as she wrapped her arms around her trembling frame in a vain effort to warm herself up again.

"S-SOUL!" She screeched, shaking her head out because she knew her hair was a mess. He only snorted at her attempts. "What are you doing here - it's too early for you to be here!"

"What're you talking about?" He drawled and she heard him toss her sheets beside her. Maka scrambled for them, cocooning herself within them because it was definitely too early for any sane human being to be up. She had always been an early riser but her alarm clock hadn't even gone off yet, of this she was sure. She had never slept through her alarm and was not about to start now. "It's the perfect time to wake up so get the hell up. Breakfast is ready!"

She could hear him rummaging around in her drawers, taking out her clothes for the day and tossing them at the end of her bed one by one. Drawers opened and closed and she heard him wander over to her closet to pull out a pair of her heels, too. He dumped those by the foot of her bed, arranged them with his foot so they were upright and ready for her to slip into.

"B-breakfast? But, Soul! What time is it? Am I late or - !"

"You're not late," he rolled his eyes. She knew he did; she could hear it in his words. "Don't worry about it. Just get up and come eat before it gets cold!" The door slammed closed and Maka grunted, shifting until she could place her hands on her bedside table. She touched for the wall and then managed to slip her slippers on her feet. She knew the way to the bathroom so she did not bump into anything but squeaked when her forehead hit the ajar bathroom door.

"You alright in there?" Soul's voice came from the kitchen, muffled.

"Y-yeah!" She shouted back, rubbing her forehead petulantly. She always did this, bump into the door like that. She was always bumping into doors, one would think she'd outstretch her hands to avoid that by now. "Just...couldn't see the door..." She mumbled softly to herself. She didn't bother turning on the light. She wouldn't be able to see it anyway. She went about her daily routine with little to no accident, coming back into her bedroom with a towel wrapped around her just as her alarm clock went off. It was six in the morning, that was when her alarm went off. Maka stifled a sigh, knowing Soul couldn't sleep again and had decided to come and ruin her sleep so they could suffer together.

"You jerk!" Maka shouted as she changed into her clothes. "Just because you couldn't sleep doesn't mean you can come and wake me up! Just wait until I get out there!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Who cooks for you again?"

"Ugh," Maka huffed as she stuck her foot into her heel. "That cocky bastard..."

"Heard that," he shouted back, only too amused. "Hey, you want orange juice or milk?"

"Orange juice!"

Maka wiggled into her blazer and buttoned it up promptly. She touched her hair, still wet from her shower, and rigorously dried it off with her towel. She could hear Soul in the kitchen, hear the plates clatter and click as he set up the table. She grumpily wondered what had kept him up this time before she ran her comb through her hair. She hesitantly touched her hair, starting to part it down the middle, but stopped soon after because she knew it was futile for her to even try. Her boss liked things symmetrical and if she didn't do her hair right, something she was known for around the office, well...

A knock came from her door. "Maka, you decent?"

"Yes," she muttered and heard the door creak open. She knew he was behind her, could feel him, and then the comb was taken out of her hand and he grabbed her shoulder and led her to her vanity. She let herself, feeling her cheeks warm despite this being nothing new. No, it wasn't anything new. He had become so attuned to using a comb and doing her hair every morning, it was ridiculous. She let him pull her hair into pigtails, felt his hands fix them so they were perfectly symmetrical, and then she felt him reach down to grab her hand. The motion didn't startle her: she squeezed his hand and let him tug her closer to him.

"Done," he said, sounding satisfied with his handiwork. "You ready to eat?"


"Alright, cool, I'm starving. Let's go," he lead her out of the room into her kitchen. She felt for the chair but he swiftly pulled it out for her, nudged her towards it, pushed it in once she sat down, told her exactly where the gallon of orange juice and milk were, before he took a seat himself and she heard him dig into his breakfast. He was always here, doing this for her, cooking for her, taking care of all the household needs. Maka gripped her fork, looking in the general direction of her plate. She should have felt more troubled by it, her sudden inability to do anything, but there was a rotten part of her that couldn't bother to pretend she didn't like it.

But she couldn't even do this, she thought stubbornly, do her own hair or even sit in a chair without assistance. What had she been reduced to, relying on not only someone to do it for her but a man? She should have been seething in her own uselessness but here she was, letting him lead her to everywhere like some helper dog. No, he was bigger than that; better than some mutt. He was more than that, much more. He kept her company because she couldn't do normal things like hang out with friends. Friends didn't want to deal with a blind friend; she'd get in the way, it's happened before. She couldn't do normal things like go to the movies or play basketball; talk about that funny billboard they saw awhile ago, those things people posted up on the internet.

No. She couldn't do that anymore. But Soul always humored her, even if she bored him with her audio books and her hands-on puzzles and her girlish fantasies. So he was more than a friend, much more than that. She just couldn't find a name for it yet but she would soon.

"Hey, you okay? Your head hurt again?" He asked her when he noticed she had yet to take a bite. The fork that scratched against his dish stopped suddenly. "Maka...?"

"...I'm okay,"she cleared her throat. Her cheeks warmed. He was always making her fumble. "Just tired."

"Tch," he scoffed. "I'm not gonna' apologize."

Maka giggled. "I know. Jerk." She dug into her eggs, making sure not to drop any on her shirt. That had been the worst of this, staining her shirt like some little girl and having Soul lean over and wipe it off; telling her to be careful next time. That regression, that had been the worst of her lows. But she could think of others she had succumbed to. "Oh...what day is it?"

"Tuesday," he replied. "Why?"

One of these days she had to wake up earlier, at the time Soul woke her up today. Maka groaned at the thought, definitely not wanting to wake up any earlier than she already had to. And definitely not anticipating doing things on her own, for the first time since she became blind. She contemplated telling Soul but couldn't bring herself to: she was already rotten, liking this sort of catering, there was no need to make it worse.

One day couldn't hurt, right? Even Soul deserved a break once in awhile, she reasoned.

So she took a breath and said, "No reason...it's just hard to keep track sometimes."

"Wouldn't be if you asked more often," he mumbled. He stopped making mistakes like wouldn't be if you checked the calendar more often a long time ago. He stopped making mistakes like that in general. He knew better. "You done?"


His chair screeched back and he collected their plates, going over to the sink and running water over them. Maka wiped her mouth quietly, placing her napkin on the table. She stopped trying to throw it away a while ago, too; Soul always insisted he do it for her, something about her hurting herself if she tried to squeeze past him on her way to the trashcan. Maka stood up and went over to the living room, touching for her folder. She found it on the first seat, where Soul always left it for her, and she tucked that under her arm as he came into the living room.

"Ready?" He yawned out.

"Now you're sleepy?"

"Man, it's so uncool," he grumbled as he opened the front door. He waited for her, grabbing her hand once she was outside. He locked the door, hand still in hers, as he spoke, "I can't sleep at night but I'm always sleepy in the morning. What kind of sick joke is this?"

Maka shrugged, his hand a reassuring weight. She swung it lightly between them. "Probably the same one that made me like this."

It became silent, very quiet. Oh, she crossed a line again. Ha, how easy it was to cross lines with him. He had no sense of humor, or maybe she just stepped over lines too much nowadays. Being blind would do that to you, considering you're constantly stumbling around for the light switch. Maka tilted her head up, her ears trained on his even breathing.

"Don't say uncool things like that," he sharply told her. His hand squeezed hers. "What happened to you isn't funny. It was an accident so don't joke around like that!" She heard him take a deep breath, let it go, flick her forehead in the way he always did before he continued, "C'mon," he tugged her hand, leading her down the hall. His voice softened. "Wanna' get some coffee? You still have an hour before you need to clock in."

"Okay! Can I have a doughnut, too?"

"Eh? You gonna' pay for it? If you do, you can!"

"What?! Why do I have to pay for it? You're the one who offered!"

"You just ate breakfast, you fatass!"

"Who are you calling a fatass? I know you're going to buy one! You always do it! You can't drink coffee without sweets, you told me once!"

"I was kidding!" He snapped and scowled when she puffed her cheeks out, her faded green eyes looking up at him with that perpetual sadness they held. Unfocused but there. Sad but never quite sad; that was the contradiction that was her eyes. "Alright, fine! One doughnut but don't whine if you can't fit into your skirts anymore! I draw the line at shopping," he grunted and she smiled because they had gone shopping before, with him complaining the entire way, and if need be they'd go shopping again because she was sure he'd insist. He always insisted and maybe that was why she let him do the things he did.


She would be lying if she said she didn't like this messed up thing they had.

A/N: I AM BACK FANDOM! I damned myself when I began to post things every month or so. Seriously, I never noticed until I got a review from an anon that said that they needed to read some new stuff from me because I hadn't posted in over a month. Holy crap, you guys are all gonna' be the death of me...

So here you go, have some blind!Maka and housewife!Soul to cure your SoMa munchies!

I'll try to update soon but no promises: college is on a different level than high school, even if I have more time than I did before. But it's usually just me studying for something or reading (a whole lot of) something or writing papers for something or preparing for a discussion for something. Augh. I just wanna' write my fics, is that so bad?