Warning for transphobia and use of transphobic slur. Quick note, I do not condone the actions of this character.

As Wes brings the car up to the driveway, Soul watches Maka's eyes light up. Their father had always prided himself on the impressive light displays their house boasted. Coupled with the ever-falling snow, it must look like a miracle to the blonde. He nudges Maka's shoulder with his own, causing her to look at him. He doesn't say a word, just smiles warmly at her, and she mouths a "thank you" to him before returning to gaping at the house. Out of the corner of his eye, he swears he sees Wes smirking at them, but before he can comment on it, Wes has parked and is climbing out of the car.

The other two follow suit, and Soul stops Wes before he can pop the trunk open to grab luggage. "Don't worry about that, we'll get it later. Sure everyone's too excited to see us to wait longer."

Wes eyes him suspiciously, but shrugs anyway, jamming his keys in his pocket and making his way up to the front door. Maka doesn't follow the oldest of the trio, instead hanging back by the hood of the car for Soul. Her brows are furrowed again, and he's getting tired of being the cause for that look.

"What's… going on?"

"Look just… just in case?" he mutters to her, watching Wes carefully to make sure he is out of earshot. "If things get ugly for some reason, we don't need to pack, we can just get the hell out of here." She blinks a couple of times at him before finally nodding, and the two move to catch up with Wes.

As they make their way up the sidewalk to the door, Maka loses her footing on a section of ice. Soul arm darts out to catch her at the elbow, and somehow he is able to right her again. She pouts a bit, glaring at the patch of ice. He does his best to hide his chuckle. When she starts laughing with him, his gaze comes up to look at her, but instead the silhouette just past her catches his eye.

And he freezes.

It's only been a few months, and sure, they've had their differences, and their chat on the phone wasn't exactly his idea of fun, but when he sees his mother standing in the doorway, there's an ache in his stomach. Like a home sickness. Her arms reach out to him, and despite all the anxiety leading up to this moment, he still feels like he's floating towards her, Maka's arm slowly slipping from his grasp. His mother holds him tight, Wes sighing contently beside them.

"You cut your hair?" she murmurs.

"Th-thought it was… time for a change."

There's a sudden change in his mother as she pulls back from him. He follows her gaze back to Maka, still standing near the patch of ice. "Who's this, dear?"

It dawns on him suddenly that most people don't bring friends for the holidays. Usually that is reserved for significant others. The thought leaves him floundering for an answer. Eventually he waves Maka over to them, giving her a look that screams "save me".

She offers a hand to his mother. "I'm Maka, Soul's friend from college. She was nice enough to invite me along. I've always wanted to see what it's like on the coast." Her eyes flash over to him, a silent apology.

His mother's face softens as she takes the girl's hand. "Alecia, Soul's mother. It's nice to have you, I just wish we'd known you'd be coming." He flinches next to her, knowing the comment is meant for him. "Let's all get inside, it's getting really cold out. Soul, your father is in the kitchen getting dinner ready, why don't you go see him?"

Soul takes Maka's hand and shows her into the house, overhearing his mother question Wes about their luggage. "Probably have dinner first, then church," Soul tells his companion. "Usually how Christmas goes for us."

She nods. "Your mom seems nice."

"Just… don't get on her bad side, kay? Trust me, it isn't fun."

The house looks even bigger on the inside with it's open floorplan. To the right of the foyer, a beautiful staircase swirls up to the second floor, the family Christmas tree resting in the curved wall it creates. On the left is a dining room, the "good" dining room with easy access to the fine china in an elaborate cabinet. The living room and kitchen are up ahead, and Soul doesn't know if it's strange or comforting that everything feels sterile, like they are in a showroom and not someone's actual house. It's always been this way, but he feels like he's seeing his childhood home in a different light.

As they enter the kitchen, his father is in the process of pulling the turkey out of the oven. The man catches a glimpse of Soul and nearly drops the pan, Soul and Maka moving as if to help catch it (the former realizing that trying to catch it without oven mitts would probably end badly). He gently places the pan on the stove top and wraps Soul in a hug, placing a kiss on the top of his head. "Been too long, kiddo," he says. "Classes going well?" As he pulls back, he eyes Maka suspiciously, just like Alecia.

"Maka, friend here, she's been helping me out with classes. Real wiz kid." Soul guides her gently by the elbow a little closer to his father. "She's never seen snow before, so I thought we should fix that."

"Glad to have you with us, Maka," the man says, grabbing her hand for a handshake. "My name's Garrett. You need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask. You picked the right day to be here, we're supposed to get quite a bit tonight." He moves back to the turkey and, seeing Wes walk by into the adjacent living room, waves him into the room. "Wes, why don't you give Maka a tour and help everyone settle in? I've got a bird to work on yet." The young man shrugs and motions for the two to follow him.

"Thanks again for picking us up," Maka says to Wes as they head into the living room. "Although we really didn't get the chance to properly introduce ourselves…"

"No need," Wes replies. "You're Maka Albarn, best friend to my dear Soul and vanquisher of bad grades and empty paper trays." He winks at Soul. "We've had plenty of conversations about you."

She giggles. "Is that so?"

Just bury him. Throw him out in the snow to freeze. Soul does his best to maintain his composure while Wes is clearly beside himself at the younger's reaction. They continue the tour of the large house, eventually making their way upstairs. The atmosphere is much warmer on the second floor, every room actually feeling like someone lives there. Soul pauses a moment and tugs on Wes's sleeve gently. "Hey, you guys go on ahead. I, uh, kinda need a sec." The older nods and leads Maka further down the hall.

Again, it hasn't really been that long, but walking into his bedroom makes him feel like he's been away for ages. Everything looks and smells the same as the day he left, minus hair on the ground. He pads over to the vanity in the corner, taking a seat in front of the mirror. His reflection stares back at him, and all he can think is he really has changed. Maybe not so much in looks, but there's an aire of confidence about him now that he doesn't remember ever seeing in this mirror.

A soft knock at the door behind him pulls him from the mirror, and there stands Maka with no Wes in sight. "Mind if I come in?" He shakes his head, and she begins to wander around the room. "Wes went to help your dad with dinner. Sounds like it will be ready soon." She stops at a tall jewelry box on his dresser, gazing at the trinkets through the glass. "Pretty."

"Grab one if you like," he says, waving nonchalantly at her. "S'not like I wear them."

She exhales through her nose with a sad smile. "I really don't think they suit me."

"Whatever," he replies with a chuckle, crossing the room towards her. Grabbing a random necklace from the box, he lays it around her neck and asks her to move her hair out of the way so he can clasp it. With it secured around her neck, Soul motions for her to move to the vanity. "Go on, take a look."

Maka does as she's told, mouth slightly agape once she catches her reflection in the mirror. She brushes her hair behind her ear. "I don't know if I'm cut out for this lifestyle of the rich and famous," she admits. "With pretty necklaces and everyone knowing your name. I've just always been… nobody."

"You're somebody to me."

She blushes faintly and brings her hands up to unclasp the necklace.

"You should really keep it on," Wes calls from the doorway. "It does suit you, really. Plus we'd better hurry downstairs now or Dad will dig in without us."

"Yessir!" Maka giggles, racing out the door and down the stairs without the other two.

Wes waggles his brows at Soul who simply punches him in the shoulder and follows the girl's lead.

…

The clock on the wall ticks far too loudly as he sits at the piano waiting for her. His song plays over and over again in his mind so hopefully he can keep it all together long enough for her to hear it. Why hadn't he taken time to change out of at least his sweater once they'd gotten back? Roasting nervously at the piano is not how Soul wants her to see him.

There is a soft knock at the door as Maka sneaks in. She's changed out of her church attire and into a striped shirt and pajama bottoms with little scarf-clad penguins on them. Cute. "It's a good thing your brother gave me the tour when we got here. 'Meet me in the piano room after church' wasn't exactly as helpful as you may have thought. Not as difficult to find as Wes's room, but still." Soul cocks an eyebrow at her. "Had to get the keys to the car so I could change to something more comfy?" she replies, gesturing to her ensemble.

He offers an apology and waves her over to him. As she clasps her hands behind her and stands just enough away from him and the bench to not crowd him, he explains, "I just… I have something for you. I know it's not something you can really take home with you, but…"

"If you're going to play for me, then play."

He looks to her, big eyes glued to him and lower lip sucked in as she anxiously awaits her present. He's played this moment in his head, over and over again. Despite his brain insisting that she'd never really be there, or that she would never want to hear what he had to say or play, she's here. Exactly as he always knew, deep down, she would be. He has so much to say, but Soul hopes she can hear it, can feel it. Maybe his interpretation is garbage, but he knows her, and this? This piece he just can't get wrong.

Taking a deep breath, he gently places his fingers on B major. It starts out slow, just a few chords echoing off the walls until he adds in the melody in a higher register. It's soft, like chimes, like Maka bounding up the stairs of the library with a smile like sunshine. Soul picks up the tempo, fingers flitting over the keys with the same sort of carefree inevitability that characterized their early friendship. His eyes close and fingers move from memory. All the laughs, the tears, the late nights talking about absolutely nothing, it all rings out from under his fingertips and envelops him in warmth.

Maka startles him when she joins him at the bench, causing him to hit a wrong note. His eyes fly open as he leans into the instrument, trying to reclaim his hold on the piece. She shifts a bit, staying as close to the edge as possible to give him plenty of room. He's grateful for it as he eases slowly into the last part of the song. The sound paints the room in the purples of a sunset, leaving him feeling hopeful for the dawn. One last chord hums from the piano, only to fade and leave behind Soul's heavy breathing. His fingers slip down to his lap, and his eyes close once more.

Maka leans her head against him and sighs contently. "That was beautiful," she whispers. "Thank you for sharing that with me." She hums a bit of what she can remember, quietly and a bit off key if he's being honest. Confirmation that she truly did enjoy his piece. Their peaceful moment is disturbed when she picks her head up off his shoulder suddenly. "You still want to talk to them?"

He swallows hard. Whatever happens, he isn't alone. The bench scrapes uncomfortably as Soul pushes away from the piano, causing Maka to flinch before following his movement with her gaze. He feels sluggish, weighed down, but regardless he squares his shoulders and replies, "Now or never, I guess."

Concern written all over her face, she joins him at his side and laces her fingers in his. "I'm here." There they stand, a knight without his armor and a pig-tailed, penguin pyjama-ed pillar, ready to take on the world together. Hand in hand, they make their way down the stairs, both trembling a bit.

Alecia catches a glimpse of them on her way to the kitchen just before they reach the foyer. "It's so nice to hear you play again, Soul. A little out of practice, but still lovely." She opens the refrigerator to look for a snack.

Maka squeezes his hand and glances up at him. He puts on his best smile for his mother and lets go of the girl's hand. "Can I, erm, talk to you, Mom?" he stutters. "You, Dad, and Wes?"

The foraging stops a moment before Alecia closes the door and squints suspiciously at him. "I suppose? What's this all about?"

"Just… wait till everyone's here, kay?"

Her gaze shifts between the two, but curiosity gets the better of her, so she doesn't press further and instead runs off to the basement to find the men. Meanwhile Maka finds a seat in an armchair in the living room, Soul pacing until there are footsteps coming up the stairs.

One by one, the Evans family files in, taking their seats on the couch and exchanging confused and concerned looks. "Everything alright, sweetie? Family meetings have never really been your style," Garrett speaks up.

"Yeah, yeah, I just- Well you see, I wanna say…" His heart is pounding in his chest, fingers wringing. Now or never, right? That's what he'd said. "Don't… call me 'sweetie' anymore. Or 'dear' or-"

"Pet names? I hardly think pet names are a reason to call a family meeting, you had your mother and I worried, young lady," his father interrupts.

"... Or that either. Or just… 'she' in general." Soul chances a glance up from the floor to gauge everyone's silent reaction. Maka's eyes flit between each member of the family, probably trying to figure out what they're thinking as well. Wes touches knuckles to his lips, eyes closed and head almost nodding? Their parents both share the same stunned look as they process his words, Garrett's directed at the floor and Alecia's at him. Does he need to elaborate? Do they understand what's he's saying at least? It's far quieter than he had ever imagined the scenario to go.

His mother's laughter kills the silence. "But, sweetie, what else are we supposed to call you if not 'she'?" She continues to giggle as if they are in on some inside joke.

He swallows hard. "'He' works just fine, thanks."

The giggling stops.

Soul's breath hitches and he turns to Maka for encouragement. She gives a small "go on" gesture with her hand, and he lets go of the breath. "It's been a few years, trying to figure it all out, but I know who I am now. And I just want… need you guys to see me the way I do."

Alecia's eyes narrow as her hands form fists. "I knew that school was a bad idea. You should have stayed here, gone to study music like your brother. No galavant across the country to some school where they fill your head with nonsense!"

Wes tenses between her and his father, eyes wide and on alert.

Soul's hand come up in a defensive gesture. "It's been like this since before college, I just didn't know how to -"

"It's probably your doing as well," Alecia spits, pointing directly at Maka. She's halfway out of her seat now, and it causes Garrett to become on edge like his eldest. "Corrupting my daughter, letting her believe these delusions! Why did you even come here?!"

"I came for this right here!" Maka retorts, jumping to her feet. "What kind of mother are you, screaming at your son like this?! For just being him!"

"Quit calling her that, you filthy whore," she hisses. A shaky hand points to herself as she continues, "I brought her into this world, fed her, clothed her. I know her better than anyone, and she is not some tranny! Now you get the hell out of my house and away from my daughter!"

She jabs a boney finger into Maka's chest, prompting Soul to step in and shove his mother away with a "Leave her alone!" Shock flickers in her eyes for a split second before she slaps him across the face. Garrett leaps from his seat and wrestles his wife back into her seat, the two flailing on the couch.

"Get off me! Get those two the fuck out of my house!" she shrieks, struggling against his grip.

"Wes, get them them out before your mother hurts someone!" Garrett wheezes.

He nods to his father and pushes Soul and Maka towards the front door. Flinging his coat off the rack and around himself, he urges the two to hurry to the car. They don't argue. Each of them barely has an arm in their sleeve by the time they pile into the vehicle. Wes turns over the engine just as Alecia appears in the doorway, her profanities echoing off the newly fallen snow. As they pull out of the driveway, Soul chances one last look back.

He decides it will probably be his last.

…

The car pulls into a dark apartment complex parking lot, its passengers still deadly silent. Wes shifts into park, sighs, and watches Soul through the rearview mirror. The younger brother is shaken. This outcome has always been a very real probability, but he'd never really prepared for it. The scene plays back, over and over, and he wonders if there was anything, anything at all, he could have done to make things end up differently. Probably not. He should feel worse about the whole situation. Shaking, like Maka next to him, or something. But instead he just passively watches the playback, staring into space.

"Let's get you guys settled down for the night," Wes' voice startles the younger two. "We can see about flights out west tomorrow, but you might want to be prepared to stay here a couple days." Maka moves to protest, but he brings a hand up to silence her. "Don't worry about it, I don't mind you bunking with me, really. Just wanna get you guys away from the Wicked Witch of the East."

Soul doesn't utter a word and obediently follows the other two up the stairs to his brother's apartment. Two bedroom, decent size for a bachelor, and a little messier than anyone who didn't truly know his brother would think. He doesn't need guiding or prompting to head towards the guest bedroom. The double bed had been his refuge on particular difficult nights in high school. While it would have been nice to grow up with a sibling closer in age to him, sometimes having a brother seven years older than you can be a blessing.

"I'll talk to them in the morning," he can barely hear Wes assure Maka in the hallway. "We'll give everyone some time to cool down, let Mom come to her senses."

"And if she doesn't?" There's a bit of venom in her voice, he can tell.

His brother sighs. "Then maybe it's for the best. If this is how it will always be, then maybe she doesn't deserve a loving son like Soul."

There's a break somewhere inside him. A weird mixture of being grateful for the wonderful brother he has and the fear and anger from their mother's outburst. It crashes down on him in waves, drowning out the sound of Wes wishing them both goodnight. He can't keep his head above water, but Maka walks past him as if everything is fine.

She leans her suitcase up against the wall next to the window. The city below glows with the festive lights reflecting off the snow. It really is a beautiful night. Such a shame. "Um… good thinking, about the luggage," she tries. "Sorry you were right though."

Soul's suitcase thunks to the floor as he throws back the covers on the bed and crawls in without a word. He disappears under the stark white blankets, tufts of hair just barely visible if she looks hard enough. Sighing, she takes a seat on her side, eyes trained to the few headlights traveling on the interstate in the distance. The first sniffle almost goes unnoticed, but second accompanied by a tiny cry shifts her attention from the window back to him. His shoulders visibly shake beneath the blankets, and she brings her feet up onto the bed to cross her legs.

"It's okay," she comforts, placing a hand on his back. "Everything's okay."

"It's not!" comes his muffled cry. The covers wrap tighter around him. "It's all shit, all of it!"

She squeezes her eyes shut a moment before tugging her side of the blankets from his grasp and crawling under with him. Her arm wraps around him as he sobs harder. "I'm so sorry…" she whispers into his back. She hums the song he played for her again, this time a bit closer to the right key. With her face pressed up against his back, he can feel the song vibrating against him.

Misery loves company, and he's grateful for the company he keeps.