The library at DWMA was quiet—too quiet for your liking. You’d come in to focus, but sitting across from Maka Albarn was anything but helpful. She was nose-deep in her book, brows furrowed, lips moving slightly as she skimmed a passage like the world would collapse if she didn’t finish it. It wasn’t unusual for her, but for you, it was unbearable. You were supposed to be reading too, but instead your thoughts kept circling back to her.

It was ridiculous—how quickly your chest tightened when she brushed her bangs back, how much you caught yourself smiling when she muttered about Soul being too lazy to help her study. You’d been best friends for long enough that these feelings had snuck up on you, and now you were sitting here, staring at her like a total idiot.

Finally, you let out a sigh that was louder than you meant. Maka glanced up, tilting her head. “You’ve been staring at the same page for fifteen minutes. Are you actually reading, or just pretending?”

You scrambled for an excuse. “I—I’m processing! That’s how I study best. Slowly.”

Her lips curled into the smallest smirk. “You’re a terrible liar.”

The air felt thick between you, the way it sometimes did when you got too caught up in noticing her instead of acting normal. It reminded you of the way the two of you hovered between friends and something more—like there was always an invisible line neither of you dared cross. But it was also kind of hilarious, how bad you were at hiding it.

You tried to shift the subject, leaning back in your chair. “You know, Maka, I think you might be a bad influence on me. I used to be productive before I started studying with you.”

Her brows shot up. “Me? I’m the one doing actual work! You’re the one drifting off into space.”

“Because you make it impossible to focus,” you shot back before you could think twice.

Maka blinked, caught off guard. For a heartbeat you thought she might scold you, but instead her cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink. She quickly ducked her head, muttering, “You’re so weird sometimes…”

You laughed under your breath, the tension breaking into something warm, something light. Maybe it wasn’t exactly a confession, but the way Maka kept fidgeting with her pen and avoiding your eyes told you she’d heard more in your words than you meant to say outright.