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Description
It was always the small things that he focused on. They were the only things he could understand. Watching a leaves rustle in the wind, admiring the sun in its slow cycle through the sky, counting the number of steps on a stair, naming the objects of a room, or even just listening to people talk.

He wouldn't speak, no, he didn't understand what was appropriate, allowed, acknowledged, tolerated, enjoyed, disgraced, admired. He simply listened to them all.

Sitting on a bench, he'd listen to them in the park. Children complaining about the adults, adults bragging about their children. Friends making plans for when to meet next, lovers deciding where to go together. Runners listing what path to take, and walkers admiring the view.

Sitting on a balcony, he'd listen to them in the city. Business men rushing to get to work, children rushing to get to school. Friends chatting happily at the coincidence of their meetings, rivals giving a scuff in passing. Merchants yelling of their goods, and buyers screaming about the yelling.

Sitting in his class-room, he'd listen to them in school. That was hardest.

He was always being dragged in to be included, ask to do things he didn't understand, couldn't understand. Have him talk about the class-work, talk about the students, talk about the teachers, talk about nurses, talk about the classes, talk about everything, and never talking about nothing. Never allowed to just sit and listen, always asked to join in and talk. He'd couldn't be alone, wasn't allowed to be alone.

She wouldn't let him be alone.

An angel disguised as a girl, a hero disguised as a student. She was the thing that always asked to him to interact, to join in, to give opinions, to do more than listen, to talk. She give a smile that warmed his body with words that soothed his soul. Her green eyes were as peaceful as the leaves on trees in the new birth of spring, and she always made sure to look at him with those eyes. Her hands were gloved with white lacings, but he never once was saddened when she grabbed his hand in hers.

Despite all that she had done, all that she had accomplished, and that she was now recognized for, she still sought him out, still fulfilling her boundless promise to never leave him alone. She'd seek him out in his room, dragging him from the corner. She'd seek him out in class, making sure he was paying attention. She'd seek him out in lunch, inviting him over to do more than listen. She'd seek him out after school, and invite him to join all her friends.

Friends. Even now it was a word he felt hard to describe.

One of these friends he had cut open, leaving the white haired boy still as a rock for weeks. One of these friends he had attacked, leaving him stranded in an ocean as he flew away. One of these friends he had hurt, and did little more than laugh and chuckle at the sight. One of these friends he had tried to kill, but now she was trying to bring him back to life.

These things were too big, too unknown, too unsure to be real. How could this be real? It couldn't be real. What if it was real? But it isn't real. Happiness isn't real. But what if it was? Could he have it, hold it, enjoy it, love it? No, that wasn't for him, never was for him, if it even existed. But it must exist, even though it doesn't. It's too big, it isn't simple.

"I don't know how to cope with this."

"What was that Chrona?"

His blue shot open as if he was struck, unbelieving he had spoken what he did. He saw each of their faces looking at him, a mild form of curiosity in each of their eyes. They were at lunch, they were at school, they were all together, and they were all looking at him. The three teams to powerful they had killed the Kishin all peering at him like odd shaped egg.

"I-I-I-I didn't s-s-say a-a-anything!" He wanted to yell it, but he didn't know how. Wouldn't that be bad? Wouldn't that scare them? Wouldn't that leave him alone?

"You did too Pinky!" Black Star said from the other side of the table. "Now spill it! Or the man who transcended God will show you the might of the heavens!" He ended with a smile, a raised fist, and crowd of people far passed used to his antics.

"I-I-It r-r-really w-w-wa-s-s n-n-nothing." His arm hurt. Why did his arm hurt? Why not his chest? Why not his leg? Why not his head? Oh, he was squeezing it too hard. The blood had stopped flowing.

"Ignore the fool with the unsymmetrical hair." It was Kid now, or Death the kid, or was it Kid Death? He didn't know, but he should know. They were friends, right? Maybe. Yes. Maybe. Probably. No. Never.

"We all are friends here, and you are the only one who hasn't said anything yet." His eyes were scary. Golden like the sun, but slit like a cat. How do you cope with having eyes like that? Did it hurt?

"Meister Kid is right." Tsubaki this time. The oldest, the tallest, not the wisest, kindest, gentlest, not prettiest. "There is nothing you can say that we would disapprove of." She had the same smile. A sure smile, but a fragile smile. He had broken once, and it was one of the things that were breaking him.

"It'd be uncool to ignore us you know." Soul, the cool kid, the chill kid, the powerful one, the wisest one, the weakest one. The one he had hurt, infected, damaged, scarred. He definitely wasn't a friend. How could they be friends? How could you go from enemies of the field to friends in school? It wasn't possible, so this wasn't real.

"Lay off you guys. Give Chrona some space." He didn't see her before she did it. An arm, single arm, long arm, warm arm, wrapped around his thin shoulders. "You were just telling everyone how unsymmetrical Patty and Liz are, right Chrona?" He let his blue eyes look to her. That wasn't what he said, he was sure of that. But then he saw her smile, her closed eye grin, her slight chuckling. A joke, a fib, a rescue for him, only him.

And it worked.

Kid's face fell into a look of despair faster than Chrona had expected, and between his ranting and crying, he even felt a few chuckles escape his lips. Nobody was watching him, judging me, looking down at him.

Only Maka was looking at him, and she was smiling at him. Protecting, loving, guarding, relaxing. This had to be real, because he wanted it to be real, he wanted these feelings to be real. He needed it to be real.

"Thank you." He mouthed the words, no air for sound, just her beautiful peaceful green eyes to see. He expected something back from her, a kinder smile, a nod of assurance, even a quick hug.

He got a kiss, a peck, contact against his check. It was quick enough for him to have imagined it, but the blush she held did nothing to say it was fake.

"Your welcome."

It was on that day, at the moment, in that hour, of that second that Chrona realized what he felt. Beyond fear, beyond darkness, beyond loneliness, and beyond shame.

Chrona felt love for Maka.

He didn't know how to cope with this.

Description
It was always the small things that he focused on. They were the only things he could understand. Watching a leaves rustle in the wind, admiring the sun in its slow cycle through the sky, counting the number of steps on a stair, naming the objects of a room, or even just listening to people talk.

He wouldn't speak, no, he didn't understand what was appropriate, allowed, acknowledged, tolerated, enjoyed, disgraced, admired. He simply listened to them all.

Sitting on a bench, he'd listen to them in the park. Children complaining about the adults, adults bragging about their children. Friends making plans for when to meet next, lovers deciding where to go together. Runners listing what path to take, and walkers admiring the view.

Sitting on a balcony, he'd listen to them in the city. Business men rushing to get to work, children rushing to get to school. Friends chatting happily at the coincidence of their meetings, rivals giving a scuff in passing. Merchants yelling of their goods, and buyers screaming about the yelling.

Sitting in his class-room, he'd listen to them in school. That was hardest.

He was always being dragged in to be included, ask to do things he didn't understand, couldn't understand. Have him talk about the class-work, talk about the students, talk about the teachers, talk about nurses, talk about the classes, talk about everything, and never talking about nothing. Never allowed to just sit and listen, always asked to join in and talk. He'd couldn't be alone, wasn't allowed to be alone.

She wouldn't let him be alone.

An angel disguised as a girl, a hero disguised as a student. She was the thing that always asked to him to interact, to join in, to give opinions, to do more than listen, to talk. She give a smile that warmed his body with words that soothed his soul. Her green eyes were as peaceful as the leaves on trees in the new birth of spring, and she always made sure to look at him with those eyes. Her hands were gloved with white lacings, but he never once was saddened when she grabbed his hand in hers.

Despite all that she had done, all that she had accomplished, and that she was now recognized for, she still sought him out, still fulfilling her boundless promise to never leave him alone. She'd seek him out in his room, dragging him from the corner. She'd seek him out in class, making sure he was paying attention. She'd seek him out in lunch, inviting him over to do more than listen. She'd seek him out after school, and invite him to join all her friends.

Friends. Even now it was a word he felt hard to describe.

One of these friends he had cut open, leaving the white haired boy still as a rock for weeks. One of these friends he had attacked, leaving him stranded in an ocean as he flew away. One of these friends he had hurt, and did little more than laugh and chuckle at the sight. One of these friends he had tried to kill, but now she was trying to bring him back to life.

These things were too big, too unknown, too unsure to be real. How could this be real? It couldn't be real. What if it was real? But it isn't real. Happiness isn't real. But what if it was? Could he have it, hold it, enjoy it, love it? No, that wasn't for him, never was for him, if it even existed. But it must exist, even though it doesn't. It's too big, it isn't simple.

"I don't know how to cope with this."

"What was that Chrona?"

His blue shot open as if he was struck, unbelieving he had spoken what he did. He saw each of their faces looking at him, a mild form of curiosity in each of their eyes. They were at lunch, they were at school, they were all together, and they were all looking at him. The three teams to powerful they had killed the Kishin all peering at him like odd shaped egg.

"I-I-I-I didn't s-s-say a-a-anything!" He wanted to yell it, but he didn't know how. Wouldn't that be bad? Wouldn't that scare them? Wouldn't that leave him alone?

"You did too Pinky!" Black Star said from the other side of the table. "Now spill it! Or the man who transcended God will show you the might of the heavens!" He ended with a smile, a raised fist, and crowd of people far passed used to his antics.

"I-I-It r-r-really w-w-wa-s-s n-n-nothing." His arm hurt. Why did his arm hurt? Why not his chest? Why not his leg? Why not his head? Oh, he was squeezing it too hard. The blood had stopped flowing.

"Ignore the fool with the unsymmetrical hair." It was Kid now, or Death the kid, or was it Kid Death? He didn't know, but he should know. They were friends, right? Maybe. Yes. Maybe. Probably. No. Never.

"We all are friends here, and you are the only one who hasn't said anything yet." His eyes were scary. Golden like the sun, but slit like a cat. How do you cope with having eyes like that? Did it hurt?

"Meister Kid is right." Tsubaki this time. The oldest, the tallest, not the wisest, kindest, gentlest, not prettiest. "There is nothing you can say that we would disapprove of." She had the same smile. A sure smile, but a fragile smile. He had broken once, and it was one of the things that were breaking him.

"It'd be uncool to ignore us you know." Soul, the cool kid, the chill kid, the powerful one, the wisest one, the weakest one. The one he had hurt, infected, damaged, scarred. He definitely wasn't a friend. How could they be friends? How could you go from enemies of the field to friends in school? It wasn't possible, so this wasn't real.

"Lay off you guys. Give Chrona some space." He didn't see her before she did it. An arm, single arm, long arm, warm arm, wrapped around his thin shoulders. "You were just telling everyone how unsymmetrical Patty and Liz are, right Chrona?" He let his blue eyes look to her. That wasn't what he said, he was sure of that. But then he saw her smile, her closed eye grin, her slight chuckling. A joke, a fib, a rescue for him, only him.

And it worked.

Kid's face fell into a look of despair faster than Chrona had expected, and between his ranting and crying, he even felt a few chuckles escape his lips. Nobody was watching him, judging me, looking down at him.

Only Maka was looking at him, and she was smiling at him. Protecting, loving, guarding, relaxing. This had to be real, because he wanted it to be real, he wanted these feelings to be real. He needed it to be real.

"Thank you." He mouthed the words, no air for sound, just her beautiful peaceful green eyes to see. He expected something back from her, a kinder smile, a nod of assurance, even a quick hug.

He got a kiss, a peck, contact against his check. It was quick enough for him to have imagined it, but the blush she held did nothing to say it was fake.

"Your welcome."

It was on that day, at the moment, in that hour, of that second that Chrona realized what he felt. Beyond fear, beyond darkness, beyond loneliness, and beyond shame.

Chrona felt love for Maka.

He didn't know how to cope with this.