Lesson 17: You can never take back your words.

Three years ago

The calls start almost immediately after his family takes him home from the station; some are from Black Star and Jackie, others are from people whose calls his parents never take in his presence, but most are from Maka.

He finds he doesn't care at all. Once the blood had lifted from his eyes, and he had seen the state of Hiro's face as he lay under him on the stage, bat still in his hand, something had broken.

Or perhaps he had realized he was always broken; the difference didn't really matter. He didn't deserve to care about anything, or for anyone care about him. So he ignores the calls, stays in his room, and when his friends show up knocking at his door, he ignores that, too.

And when his parents suggest the hospital four days after the show, he says yes.

They leave in the middle of the night, like they're fugitives, and he supposes that they are. Even in his daze, he realizes that the phone calls they make are to lawyers and Hiro's family, that they're breaking their backs for him to avoid the worst, a truth that would eat away at him if he could feel anything, because the worst is the least he deserves.

Instead of driving all the way to the city, they drive to the train station. He doesn't question it-the trek to the city would take over half a tank of gas and back, and they are living check to check these days. While his mother buys tickets, he drifts to the rotating display of brochures for different locations, browsing through it with an apathetic disinterest, pretending not to notice his father watching him from the seats.

When she returns from the ticket stand and calls him over, only two tickets in her hand, his father explains, "I have to take care of a few things here." He adjusts his glasses for the millionth time since they've arrived, standing up. "But I'll join you in a few days."

He nods, and his father clasps his shoulder briefly before leaving.

For the next hour, he and his mother wait in the tiny waiting area of the station; he watches the moon rising in the station's front window, and carefully avoids any attempts she makes at conversation, though that doesn't deter her from continuing to try.

"It won't mess up anything, you know," she says after he thinks she has finally given up. "About your admission, so long as you do this, if that's what you're worried about."

"That's exactly what I was worried about," he says. In the past four days, he's found that at least his sense of sarcasm has stayed intact, though perhaps it's sharper now. "Not about my life falling apart."

"College is part of your future, Soul." His mother takes a firmer tone with him than she has since the show. "We're going to do what we need to do to make sure you're okay, and I-"

Her phone rings shrilly, and she jumps, looking down.

A frown forms on her face when she sees the number, and he knows it's a person she doesn't want to talk to in front of him. "I have to take this," she says, checking the time on her watch. "The train should be here by ten-thirty, so if it arrives, tell the conductor to wait."

He gives her a two-fingered salute, and she glances at him one more time before getting up, going off in the direction of the bathroom.

Settling in his seat as comfortably as he can, he closes his eyes and tries to sleep. Even though sleeping has turned into the opposite of restful, it's better than being forced to exist in his head. A voice from the back of his mind wonders what exactly he's agreed to by going to the hospital, but he ignores it with a little effort, falling into a doze.

"Found you!"

Soul's eyes fly open as Maka comes to a stop in front of him, looking like she just ran a marathon. Her hair is loose and her eyes are unusually bright as she points at him, chest heaving. "Why haven't you answered my calls?"

He's too shocked to react the way he should; it's the first time he's felt anything other than apathy in days. "What are you doing here?"

"I called your brother and he told me you were leaving." She draws closer until she's all he can see. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asks. "Why didn't you see me when I came to your house?"

"Isn't it obvious?" He recovers remarkably fast, standing as he answers, pushing her hurt expression out of his vision. "I don't want to see anyone."

Her temper flares, like he knew it would. "Well, I'm not anyone, Soul." She ducks back into his line of view. "And you can't avoid everyone forever."

Hearing her say his name makes something twist in his chest, something he'd thought had died when the world broke in front of his eyes. It's even more painful than the moment when the blood lifted and he'd seen what he had done.

"Isn't that what I'm doing?" he says, gesturing around them.

"You can't run from yourself," she replies flatly before the anger drops from her face. "We don't have to talk about it," she says, stepping close to him again. "But we're here for each other through everything, remember?"

He doesn't want to think about what they said to each other after her mother's funeral. He doesn't want to think about anything at all.

"Consider yourself released from that promise," he says with a casual shrug. "This time tomorrow, I'll be in the city, and everything and everyone in this shitty town will be long behind me."

The anger rises in her face again, stronger this time, but she bites back what she's about to say and taking a deep breath. "I know what you're doing," she says flatly. "But you can't fool me when I know you better than anyone else."

"That's the beauty of time and distance." The sound of the train whistle filling the station and the sudden bustle of people from the far side of the station helps him hide how badly his hands are shaking. "It's easy for any person to become anyone with enough of it."

"That's bullshit and you know it." Heat floods in her voice as she takes his hand, grasping his wrist tightly. "If you have to leave to get better, then leave," she says, swallowing hard. Faintly, against his palm, he can feel the thrumming of her pulse in her wrist. "But you don't have to be alone in this."

For an instant, he sees the future she outlines, and he grips her hands just as fiercely as she's holding his. Then, whatever has come back alive in his chest twists into him even more painfully, and he sees all the ways it could fall apart. There's no way to tell what will happen if he comes out of the shell he's constructed for himself where everything is the same, even if it's all only misery.

"It's pretty sad that you can't say you're the one who doesn't want to be alone." He's never been so pleased at how expertly he can ruin his own life, watching his words hit home in the hurt blooming across her expression.

Pulling his hand free, he moves away from Maka and towards the train. "But people leave people behind all the time, and you should get used to it."