Rated T for strong language and slightly disturbing scenes.

...

Alarms will ring for eternity

The waves will break every chain on me

My bones will bleach

My flesh will flee

So help my lifeless frame to breathe

...

In life we are faced with many decisions.

We have to deal with many struggles.

Many painful experiences.

Many thoughts that should have never been thought of.

Many deeds that should have never been done.

Sometimes, we even thrust upon ourselves responsibilities that were never meant to land on our shoulders.

We take in anothers burden. Anothers weight.

And forget about our own.

She was like that.

She'd ignore the aching sadness that crawled over her skin and into her soul in favor of a different route. A route in which she hurt no one, only helped them, thus taking her mind off herself and putting it on someone else for a change.

But at the same time, she was utterly selfish.

She hated the depression that was constantly making her look over her shoulder. Making her think twice before doing anything at all with her life, whether it be big or small.

She was afraid.

She didn't want that painfully raw feeling to consume her yet again.

So, she helped people not for the sole purpose of helping them, but also because it helped her fight off her minds attempt to push her down into a dark pit she'd rather not reenter.

Selfishly unselfish. That's what she called it.

Her own burden was too much to bear, so she piled other peoples burdens on top of hers in hopes of burying her sadness to where she could no longer notice it.

And it worked.

For a time.

That was how she lost her first five pounds.

By ignoring herself.

But ignoring something or keeping it hidden doesn't make it go away.

So she stopped being helpful.

She stopped caring so much.

She stopped thrusting burdens that didn't belong to her upon herself.

She stopped...

Everything.

Her life was no longer lived.

Her thoughts were no longer thought.

Her deeds went undone.

There was no more Maka Albarn.

Instead, people now referred to her as the girl with the weird pigtails.

And she accepted it.

And lost another five pounds.

Now, she wallowed in the depths of despair, silently seeking a comfortable refuge in what others kill themselves over.

The depression consumed all that she was, bringing a friend with it. It started off simple by skipping breakfast.

Then lunch.

Then dinner.

Then, eventually, she'd go days without eating all because her mind was telling her that losing weight would make her feel better.

Make her feel good.

Something she hasn't felt for a very long time.

So, while others in the school cafeteria would chat and stuff their faces with the greasy food that was provided to them during lunch hours, she'd hide out in the library, refusing to give in to her aching stomach that growled for any source of energy.

She was bone thin. All ninety pounds of her.

But in her eyes, ninety was too much.

Not that anyone noticed.

Her father, a drunkard in all his glory, was too busy chasing skirts to glance back at the slow demise that was his daughter. Her mother? Maka didn't even know where the hell she was. She had no friends. No other family.

She was alone. So, naturally, no one bothered to care.

Until he moved in next door.

She had seen him around a few times, her eyes stopping on him whenever he was near, but neither of them bothered to associate with more than a curt nod in acknowledgement.

But when she walked away, she could feel his red eyes on her boney back.

Her lack of outer fat was always hidden by baggy sweaters and jogging pants- protecting her from wavering eyes that tried to dig too deep.

But his eyes...

Never wavered.

They planted on her.

Like he knew something was wrong.

So when he knocked on her door late one night, while she was just getting ready to go to sleep, she was nonetheless, surprised.

But not because he was there. It was because of the man draped over his arm.

"He passed out at the bar down the street I'd bring him here so that he doesn't get mugged. Didn't think you'd like that."

Her mind was instantly creating scenarios as to why he was in a bar when he was obviously underage.

"My family owns it." He said, seeming to read her mind.

His voice was rougher than she imagined it, but it was also calm and full of carefulness.

"Oh, thanks." She mumbled, looking at her unconscience father. "I'm sorry he caused you trouble."

She stepped out of the way so that he could drag her papa inside. "It's cool." His eyes caught hers when he set Spirit down on the couch, and they took in her haggard appearance. "You look like someone told you your dog got slaughtered."

She blinked at him, clearly taken aback by his bluntness. "I'm just a little tired."

She caught him narrowing his eyes, but when she blinked again, they were back to their lazy stare. "Get some sleep." He said coolly. "I'm across the hall if you need me. Name's Soul, by the way." Then he walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind him, leaving as swiftly as he came.

If you need me.

She shook her head, ridding her twisted mind of thoughts such as that.

Her knees quaked beneath her, threatening to take away their support if she doesn't find substenance soon.

But she ignored it and walked back to her room, closing the door behind her.

Where was I? She thinks once she lays her back down on the wooden floor.

Oh yeah.

She bends her knees and plants her feet squarely on the floor, positioning her arms behind her head.

She lifts herself up.

342...343...344...345...346...

She then decides that only once she has completed five-hundred sit-ups will she rest for that night.

...

That was the first time he had ever spoken to her and it wouldn't be the last.

His devilishly good looks made her secretly yearn for him to speak to her again. Just one more time. But the other half of her knew that even trying to be his friend would ultimately fail. No one needing to get involved with her.

She was poison.

It was better if she just stayed away.

She tried.

She failed.

Fate was never on her side.

He would pop up when she least expected it and they would make small chat. Something she had really never done before. He'd ask how her father was. She'd tell him he was still an idiot. He'd laugh.

Laugh.

At something she said.

And she was comfortable.

With a man.

Something she'd never felt before. And it had only been a month.

One lousy month.

How pathetic was she?

It wasn't like they were best friends or anything, albeit he was the only person she ever talked to besides her deadbeat father. He was just someone she'd occasionally talk to in the hallway or whenever they saw each other in the outside world. A friendly acquaintance.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Until he invited himself over one night.

Unannounced.

He just waltzed in and planted himself on the couch.

"Uhm..." She hesitantly said, still holding the door open.

He yawned and propped his feet up on the wooden coffee table. "I was bored." One red eye popped open and looked at her. "You don't mind, do you?"

Half of her was screaming at him to get out while the other begged him to stay. "I suppose not."

"Got anything to eat? I'm starving." He asked, making her walk back to the kitchenette, searching for any morsel that he could consume.

She opened one of the cabinets. Ketchup. And hot sauce. She moved to the next and grimaced when she saw green mold spreading on a loaf of bread, disposing of it immediately.

"Maka." She let out a shriek and turned swiftly behind her, finding Soul staring at her as intense as he always did.

"We don't have anything in the cabinets; let me check the fridge, there might be something hidden in there somewhere."

He leaned against one of the counters and kept silent, his eyes still boring holes into her like he was trying very hard to figure something out. She opened the fridge door and peered inside of it, mentally canceling out the bottle of chilled vodka and looking directly at tub of coleslaw her father had brought in the other night.

"Coleslaw?" She asked, voice cracking from lack of use. She turned her head slightly to catch his attention.

He nodded.

She grabbed the tub and set in on the counter. "Plates... " She mumbled, half to him, half to herself.

She was about to grab a single plate when his arm shot out and brought another one down, setting it on the counter. "There's enough for two, right?"

She froze, hands becoming clammy. "I'm not really hungry..."

He spooned out two large heapings of the mayonnaise smeared stuff onto the plates. "Awe, too late. Already got you some. Besides, it'd be awkward if I ate by myself."

He opened the dishwasher and grabbed two cups from the top rack, running them under water then filling them up with the liquid.

He set a glass next to her and walked back into the living room. He was so casual. So collected.

The complete opposite of the mess she was.

She sat beside him and placed her plate in her lap, sipping at the water. "So, what made you want to stop by?"

He lazily allowed his eyes to look at her form. "I told you. I was bored."

She nodded timidly. "I heard you. But why my place?"

"Why not?"

"I just figured you'd have better places to be. With your friends." She'd seen them stop by his apartment more than a few times. Especially a very loud blue-haired man.

His gaze returned to the ballgame on the TV. "You seemed more interesting."

She nearly choked on her water as he continued to eat his cole slaw ever so casually. "W-What?"

He rolled his vibrant irises. "Not that hard to figure out. I wanted to hang with you not them. That such a big deal?"

She swallowed. "I-I guess not."

He grinned at her, teeth so sharp they looked like they could puncture even leather. "Cool." His eyes fell on her untouched plate. "Eat something."

She fidgeted. "I've told you. I'm not very hungry."

His shoulders slouched. "Eat it anyway. You look like you could use it." He looked her over.

A ghost of a smile appeared on her face, but she still shook her head.

His eyes narrowed, but his lips didn't move.

He stayed there for eight hours. And they did nothing and everything at the same time.

She'd tell a lame joke and he'd tell her how lame it actually was but he'd smile while he said it.

They'd argue over what to watch as she hated sports and he hated the history channel.

They'd settle on SpongeBob.

He'd laugh when she slipped on the floor on her way to the bathroom but not before asking if she was okay.

She'd blush at the sound of it.

And he'd eat the entire tub of cole slaw while mentally noting that she hadn't eaten a crumb since he'd been there.

And when he left that night, she didn't feel the need to do her nightly exercises.

But she did them because she knew she'd regret it later if she didn't.

And when she knelt over the toilet late into the night, hurling up nothing but stomach acid, a tear silently fell down her thin face.

...

He'd made it into a habit.

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday he'd come.

He'd bring his own food and drink as she seemingly never had any in stock at her own house. Chips, cookies, cakes, chocolates, popcorn, and soda were just some of the things he'd haul over. He was always so willingly to share but she never accepted any of what he was trying to give her, claiming to not be hungry at the time.

The time that was always.

And he'd look at her with that intense stare that always made a tremble sliver up her spine, silently questioning her.

Demanding answers.

But she'd look away. Silently declining him access to her secrets that were slowly being unveiled by his overactive mind.

He'd find her at lunch too. She had never even seen him at school before but she had heard girls walk past her, whispering to themselves about the oh so mysterious and ruggedly handsome Soul Evans.

But she never paid much attention to them until now. Soul Eater Evans. The guy with many friends but no friends at all.

He'd find her in the, in his words, 'smells-like-shit' library, flipping through books and sipping on water to quench the ever gnawing hunger inside of her. He'd make his presence known to her by loudly pulling his seat back and she'd cringe as the legs made a terrible sequel on the hardwood floor. She'd glare up at him for ruining her moment of delectable peace and he'd grin that shit-eating grin he always does when he pisses her off.

Almost everyday he'd buy her lunch. Almost everyday she'd decline it.

It went on like this for God knows how many weeks.

And his suspicions grew each time she denied the food he offered her.

But it was impossible for what he was thinking to be true.

Right?

Wrong.

So terribly wrong.

...

She cries out, the ache in her stomach getting the best of her.

Her arms encircle her abdomen and she stuffs her shirt sleeve into her mouth to hide her screams of agony.

She thinks she might of gone too far this time.

After Soul's suspicion of her increased to the point where he started asking questions that should have never been asked, she had begun to eat a little more.

But only around him.

He'd hand her an apple and she'd nibble on it a little bit.

Then purge herself of it later.

She couldn't risk gaining anymore weight than she already has.

She needs to lose ten more pounds.

But now, as she's sitting on the hard tile floor, she regrets it.

Regrets everything.

She wants him here with her. To tell her everything will be okay. To tell her that she won't be anorexic forever.

To tell her she won't die from a mental disease.

She wants him here so that she'll forget about her problem for a while.

She wants him here just so she knows someone actually gives a damn about her.

She wants him here just so he can hold her.

...

The key won't fit.

She's standing outside of her apartment and the key won't fit into the door.

She tries again.

Maybe it's the wrong key?

She glances down at the metal piece, grabbing the side of her head as darkness pokes through her vision.

She's about to pass out.

And the key won't fucking fit.

One of her legs buckles beneath her, but when her knee hits the carpeted floor, she stands right back up, unwilling to give in to unconsciousness.

She tries again. Still nothing. She's been standing here for ten minutes trying to get the useless thing to do its job.

"Having trouble?"

At first she thought she was just imagining his voice. That was until his hand waved in front of her face. "You okay?"

Her eyes met his and there was a forest fire between them. Forest green meeting blazing red. Her head was spinning. "It...won't go in." She feebly motioned to the door knob.

His brows furrowed at her problem, seeing an obvious solution she somehow managed to miss. "...You've got it upside down." He said quietly, taking her hand and turning the key the correct way.

"Oh."

She sighs when she hears the faint click that signals the door is unlocked and she stumbles inside.

He grabs her wrist. "What's wrong with you? You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She slurs, coughing to cover it up.

He lets her arm drop from his grasp and watches as she walks towards the faded orange love seat, swallowing the dread that is slowly slithering up his throat, denying the exit of any words he tries so hard to from.

She collapses on the sofa, head hitting the cushioned leather, and it's only a matter of seconds before the darkness that poked at the corners of her eyes consumes her vision completely and she remembers no more.

But Soul is still there. Watching her.

He walks over to the couch and grips the back of it before jumping over to the other side, sitting down on the part that isn't taken up by the blonde.

"Maka." He says seriously, nudging her a bit with his pointer finger. "I think we need to talk."

His brows furrow when she doesn't respond. "Maka? Makaaaaa...Maka."

No movement.

He gets off the couch and kneels down beside her so that her face is level with his. He shakes her shoulder back and forth and lets out a string of curses when she still doesn't stir.

He sighs heavily and runs his hands violently through his hair.

And he just stands there.

And waits.

And waits.

For something that will help him comprehend anything.

...

Her head is killing her.

She groans and leans back, only to land softly on something hard.

She slowly raises her head to look above her.

And stares into the eyes of no other than the oh so mysterious and ruggedly handsome Soul Evans.

"I don't get you." He whispers to her and she flinches at the coldness in his tone. The accusation it holds.

"W-What?" She stammers.

"Why didn't you tell me you were like this?"

Her eyes widen and she slightly crawls away from him, just enough so that she can turn her body to face his. She opens her mouth once but no words can seem to find their way out. She's hopelessly hopeful that he doesn't mean what she thinks he means.

"I don't understand what you're talking about." Her resolve returns and her voice is strong.

His eyes slit into ice that pierces her very soul. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Don't you dare try and play fucking dumb."

Her temper was rising, but she couldn't ignore the guilt in the back of her mind from not telling him what was wrong with her. He was her best friend. "..."

His tone softened. "I believed you at first. That you just weren't hungry. But then, you were never hungry. And I spend all day with you sometimes." He bent his head down and buried his hands in his thick white locks. "I should have known. Goddammit, I should have known! I was ignoring my suspicions because I didn't want them to be true. I was so stupid. So fucking stupid."

"Soul..."

"I knew what was wrong with you. The first time I saw you, I knew that something was wrong with you, but by the time I had figured it out I'd already started to...never mind." He dropped his hands from his hair and motioned to her. "You're as thin as a twig. And I ignored it. You are dying and I ignored it. I'm so sorry, Maka. I am so sorry."

His hand shot out and grabbed hers. "I'll get you some help. I swear you'll get better, okay?"

She looked down as he intertwined their hands. "I don't need any help, Soul."

His laugh was humorless. "Yes, Maka, you do. And I swear if I have to drag you to the hospital while you're screaming and clawing at me to let go, I'll do it. Even if you hate me forever, I'll do it. I'm not gonna let you kill yourself because you're anorexic."

She sucked in a breath of air when he said that horrid word. He really did know what was happening with her. He knew and he was still here. He was even trying to help her.

"Hey..." He said when he saw tears form in her eyes. "Don't cry. We'll get through this. You'll get through this. You can beat it. I know you. You're strong enough."

He brought her to him and wrapped his arms around her shoulders as she sobbed into his chest. He wasn't quite sure how long he stayed there or what time it was or even if it was day or night. What he did know though, was that Maka needed him right now. Needed him.

Not her dad.

Not her mom.

Him.

And he needed her just as much.

She felt his lips kiss the top of her head. "We'll go to the hospital tomorrow morning and see what they can do." He whispered into her hair.

She sniffed and gripped his leather jacket in her tiny, boney fists. "You'll stay with me?"

"Of course I will, you dumbass." The deep chuckle that vibrated through his body made a spark of heat inside her chest blossom into a comfortable heat. "I'll always stay with you."

She lifted her head to stare at his red-like-fire eyes. His thumb moved to wipe away fresh tears that trailed down her porceline skin. She leaned in and planted her lips on his cheek bone. "I-I'm so sorry. I promise I'll...try to get better. I promise."

She could feel his breath on her lips when he spoke. "No, not try. You will get better." His lips were less than a centimeter away from hers. "You're gonna beat this, Maka."

The gap between them closed and the kiss that followed it symbolized their promises to each other. It sealed them.

...

"Don't be afraid." He said as they stood outside the broad doors of well-known Death City Clinic.

She sighed, her breath creating fog due to the coldness of the morning air. "I'm not afraid."

His hand gripped the bar that opened the doors. "Then let's go in."

"Soul." She said when he was just about to enter the huge building.

The black beanie that covered up most of his hair bobbed when he turned back around to face her, his hand still on the bar. "Yeah?"

"Maybe I'm a little afraid." She whispered, eyes pointed at her feet.

She heard him chuckle and her hand tingled when he grabbed it. "There is nothing to be scared of, alright? I'm here. Maka. Makaaaaa." She couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips when he poked her in the stomach. "I'm here."

He tugged her along with him as they entered the building. Her body was trembling but her will did not waver.

It would never waver as long as he was always there to motivate her.

It was time for her to heal.

...

And God knows I'm not dying but I breathe now

And God knows it's the only way to heal now

...

Thanks to all of you who decided to read this one-shot. Anorexia is a very serious disease in which people actually do 500 sit-ups a night just to lose weight. In some cases it can cause death.

Please do not question my knowledge on this disease as my mother was anorexic so I have had to deal with it first hand.

If you know someone who is anorexic, get them help immediately before it is too late. If you are suspicious that someone may have this disease report it to someone you trust who will do something about it.

I do not own Ellie Goulding's "My Blood" or Soul Eater.

~Sin

P.S. I'm sorry I haven't updated any of my stories in a while. My computer broke a long time ago and the man still hasn't fixed it yet. Let's just say that I do not expect to pay for the repairs haha. I got a new computer anyway, but all my stories were saved on my old one. Saddddd

P.S.S. Please review!