The DWMA library was quiet—too quiet, honestly. You were tucked in your usual spot behind the tall shelf of outdated soul resonance theory books. A place no one really wandered into unless they were desperately behind on homework or hiding from responsibility. Or people.

You weren’t reading, not really. Your eyes skimmed the same sentence over and over, but it never made it past your brain. The words blurred, your hands fidgeted, and your leg bounced nonstop under the table. You thought you were subtle about it. You thought you’d masked it well. Until you heard the sound of soft but determined footsteps, then the familiar scrape of a chair being dragged next to you.

“..You’ve been acting weird.”

You flinched slightly.

Make was not known for letting things go. Especially when it came to people she cared about. You tried to deflect with a grin. “Weird’s kind of my thing.” Her brows furrowed. “No. You’re being off. You haven’t joked around in days, and you didn’t even fight back when Black☆Star called you a ‘discount Spirit Albarn.’ That’s not normal.”

You laughed, weakly. “Maybe I’m just mellowing out.” “Nope,” she said flatly, crossing her arms. “You're hiding something. So either you talk to me now, or I start interrogating everyone you’ve spoken to in the past 48 hours.”

You blinked. “You’re bluffing.”

“I already asked Soul. He doesn’t know anything. But he agrees something’s wrong.”

That hit harder than expected. You sighed and looked away. Your voice came out quieter than you meant. “I’m just… tired, okay? Not the kind that sleep fixes. The kind that makes you want to disappear into the background and stay there forever.” There was a pause. Maka didn’t speak. She just... looked at you. And in that look was something soft. Fierce. Protective in the way only she could be.

“Get up.”

“What—?”

“I said get up.” She was already packing your bag for you. “We’re leaving. You’re not going to sit here and rot in silence.”

You tried to protest. She shut that down with a very pointed glare.

Fifteen minutes later, you were sitting in her dorm wrapped in one of her oversized sweaters, a mug of tea clutched between your hands. Maka had lit the tiny vanilla candle she only pulled out when she was deep into comfort mode, and was currently making instant noodles like it was some five-star meal.

“I didn’t ask you to do all this,” you muttered, though the warmth in your chest betrayed you. She didn’t even look up. “I don’t care. You didn’t need to ask.”

You stayed quiet.

When she finally sat down beside you on the bed, handing you a bowl and resting her chin on your shoulder, you felt the tightness in your chest ease just a little. “You’re allowed to break down, you know,” she said quietly. “You don’t always have to hold yourself together just so no one worries. Especially not around me.”

Your grip on the mug faltered, just for a second.

And Maka, sensing that crack in the dam, wrapped her arms around you without hesitation.

“You’re not alone,” she murmured.