Writer's Note: Thank you for all your lovely comments! Reading them makes me happy. I love to see what you guys are thinking and what parts you pick up on.

Re Blanks: Blanks are born without an Ink, and thus don't have a soulmate, but they're free to date like everyone else. Maybe they'll pair up with another Blank, maybe they'll be someone's For Now, maybe they'll choose to stay single. Seeing as being a Blank isn't that common, I imagine Blanks would be seen as a little unusual or 'other'. Some people believe that something is wrong with them and that's why they're a Blank, and thus treat them like pariahs, while others are more accepting. (This isn't strictly relevant to the plot, but you asked, and I have a ton of background info about the world that I didn't include in the story, so… *shrugs*)

I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

Chapter Ten

Elizabeth lay in the hazy dark-blue gloom of the bedroom, the only light coming from the glow of the street lamps which snuck in around the edges of the curtains. The Ink kitten had long since curled up over her heart and succumbed to sleep; it radiated a soft contentment that drifted through her like a warm breeze with the rise and fall of its every breath. Sleep did not come for her, though; instead, she worried the edge of the comforter idly between her forefinger and thumb while she watched the shadows that flickered and danced across the ceiling. If she stared hard enough, she could almost make out the shapes of Inks in the shadows, just like she used to pick out images from the clouds and share them with Chris as they lounged on the pile of cinder blocks someone had dumped on the roof of her dorm, just like her father used to pick out images from the stars and share them with her as they huddled on the porch at the horse farm before that.

She'd promised herself she wouldn't let herself get close to anyone again—not after her parents, not after Chris—and yet here she was: letting her Ink cross over onto Henry's skin, accepting his invitations, seeking him out in the middle of the night and walking home with him.

None of those things were necessarily bad in themselves. But the way she looked forward to seeing him, the way she enjoyed spending time with him, the way she felt when she was with him?

It was a dangerous game to play, and she was setting herself up to be hurt again.

By the time the faint rays of early morning light slipped between the curtains into the bedroom and crept their way up from the foot of the bed, she'd resolved that she would return to being civil towards him. Nothing more, nothing less.

She held that resolve as she dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt (red check, not blue). She held that resolve as she gathered together her notebook and pens while sipping from a scalding hot cup of coffee. She held that resolve as she strode along the red brick path that led to the library.

But then, when she rounded the corner on the second floor and saw him sat at the table in the group study room…

"Hi." He twisted around in his seat and met her with a smile so warm it could make even the hardest winter frost melt. "I got you a muffin."

…that resolve crumbled and gave way to the flutter at the bottom of her chest.

They could be friendly until the end of the semester, right?

She would go cold turkey after that.

oOoOo

While Henry talked Elizabeth through his notes on the problem of evil, punctuated with regular pauses for bites of muffin and sips of coffee, the Ink kitten and Ink puppy played. Elizabeth had pushed her shirt sleeves up to her elbows, and with her forearm lying alongside Henry's on the table, the two Inks jumped back and forth, from one arm to the other—well, the Ink kitten jumped back and forth; the Ink puppy jumped at Elizabeth's arm, seemingly slammed into an invisible wall, and then bounced back and fell in a dazed heap, only for it to try again a few seconds later.

Henry was just getting started on the 'no best of all possible worlds' response, when a voice came from the corridor behind them.

"Henry, hi!"

Henry stopped talking, and they both twisted around to face the open door.

A petite girl with sleek, dark brown hair and features so exquisite they could have belonged to a hand-sculpted doll stood in the doorway. The oversized cardigan and oversized glasses she wore made her look even more petite, her features even more exquisite.

On the back of Elizabeth's arm, the Ink kitten lowered itself into a crouch, pinned back its ears and growled. (Elizabeth wasn't aware kittens could growl, but the Ink variety certainly did.)

"Um…hi, Ro." Henry's eyes widened with surprise. Possibly alarm, too. "I'm in the middle of something right now."

"I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday for yesterday." The girl—Roe? Like fish eggs?—gave him a bright smile, unfazed. "Did you have a good day?"

"Sure?" It sounded like a question. He rubbed his brow, his fingertips digging into the deep furrows that had formed. "Look, do you think maybe we could catch up another time?"

But as he raised his hand to his brow, the Ink puppy dashed down his arm to his elbow, so that it was as close as it could be to the Ink kitten, which was still growling at the brunette.

The brunette looked from the Ink puppy to the Ink kitten

Her smile faded, swept away by a kind of grim realisation. Then her lips pursed, her nostrils flared, and she stared at Henry, her gaze icy. "Well, I see you got everything you wanted."

With that, she spun on her heel and stormed off.

Henry paused for a second, and then surged to his feet, the chair legs screeching across the floor beneath him. "Excuse me one minute," he murmured to Elizabeth, and he strode after the girl.

Elizabeth found herself unable to summon a reply. Instead, she just blinked at them.

What the hell was going on there?

She watched through the open doorway as Henry caught up with the girl halfway along the corridor. He took hold of her elbow—an act made more difficult by her trying to jostle herself free—and guided her to the side, where a row of large lattice windows lined the wall.

They spoke in harsh whispers at first, but that quickly escalated into what looked more like hushed shouts. On the back of Elizabeth's forearm, the Ink kitten continued to growl, and a pang of something—bitter and uncomfortable—struck her chest: Henry had been with that girl.

She didn't care. Why would she care?

And yet…

Henry's jaw tensed and his whole expression darkened with his scowl. He motioned back and forth between himself and the girl, a wild gesture that lacked his usual calm control. When the girl tried to respond, her expression equally dark, he held up one hand, his fingers spread, as though signalling her to stop. Then, before she could thrust out another word, he turned his back on her, and shaking his head to himself, he marched towards the group study room.

Elizabeth watched him as he grabbed hold of the top rail of his chair, stepped around it and sank onto the seat, all in a stewing silence, the air around him prickling like the charge that sweeps through the atmosphere before a thunderstorm. The Ink kitten prowled towards him—possibly harbouring intentions of reminding him and the Ink puppy just who their soulmate was—but she latched onto the feel of it and pulled it back, and then tugged down the cuff of her sleeve to cover it where it fought against her hold on the back of her forearm.

"What was all that about?" she asked.

Henry scooted his chair closer to the table and shook his head. "Nothing." He picked up the stack of notes in front of him, joggled them together with a tap-tap-tap against the tabletop so that the edges of the pages aligned, and then gripped the pages by the margin and flicked through them.

Elizabeth waited.

The silence in the room strained.

She gave an awkward smile. "Well, it obviously wasn't nothing…"

Henry continued flicking through the notes. Seconds spun out.

"Henry?" she prompted.

He stopped. He stared through the notes in his hand and let out a huff of breath.

Then he turned to her. The anger in his eyes still burned. "She called you a little girl with daddy issues. Though, I think she objects more to our Inks animating than to the age gap."

"Oh." Her smile fell away. She fought to revive it. "Well, if it helps, I've been called worse."

His expression softened, and he looked at her almost pleadingly, as though asking her how on earth she thought it could possibly help for him to know that people had called her worse.

She let her smile fade while her gaze flitted over his expression, as though tracing the lines he'd yet to earn. It was kind of sweet that he'd wanted to stand up for her.

"She's one of your For Nows?" Her voice came more tentative than she'd intended.

He looked away from her again and resumed thumbing through his notes. "Yes. Was."

She watched him in silence for a moment. It felt like he was looking more for a distraction than a particular paragraph.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she said.

He gave a quick shake of the head. "We've got a lot to get through."

"I don't mind."

He hesitated; his hands stilled and his gaze drifted beyond the notes, towards the tabletop.

"You were in love with her?" Her voice was soft, unlike the hiss of the Ink kitten, which still strained against the hold that kept it on her forearm.

"Yes. No," he said quickly. He faced her, the whites of his eyes alight with a glimmer of panic. "She was in love with me."

Elizabeth lowered her gaze and turned her head from side to side. "Arguably, she still is."

Henry paused. His lips pursed.

"You broke up with her?" She looked to him again.

"It was for the best."

"For you or for her?"

"For both of us."

"But I'm guessing she doesn't see it like that."

He held her gaze for a long moment, but with the slight flicker there, as subtle as a wavering flame, it felt like he was forcing himself to maintain that contact. Then his gaze dipped away from hers and clung to the floor beneath the table instead. He scruffed one hand through his hair.

When he finally spoke, his voice was flat—not quite monotonous, just without emotional inflection, like he'd run the speech through his mind a thousand times and already knew how people would judge him. "When Rochana and I met, I was still rebelling against the idea of soulmates. I'd been raised with the expectation that I would be with my soulmate and that I would wait for my soulmate, but I didn't like the determinism of it. I didn't like the idea that this person had already been chosen for me and that I had no say in the matter. I'd had a few previous relationships that didn't work out—I liked them but it always felt like there was something missing. It was only when Rochana told me that she loved me and said that she wanted us to have our Inks Ablated so that we could be together forever that I realised that my Ink and the idea of meeting my soulmate did mean something to me—maybe that's what had been missing, the bond between soulmates. Rochana insisted that if I loved her, I would have my Ink Ablated, but I couldn't bring myself to do it and I knew that I could never bring myself to do it, and I didn't want to lead her on, so…"

"So you broke up with her."

He met her eye. Something about that look begged her not to hate him. "And I haven't dated anyone since. I realised that being with my soulmate was what I wanted, and I didn't want anyone else to get hurt. I still see her around campus and at debates. I try to keep my distance, but I know she still holds on to the hope that I might change my mind."

"Will you change your mind?"

"No," he said firmly. He paused, waiting for the word to settle. "I could never love her how she wants me to love her. And I wish I'd known that from the beginning and that I'd never dated her, but maybe being forced to face that decision, being forced to consider Ablation and a life where I would never be with my soulmate, was what I needed in order to see what I truly wanted."

He stared straight at her. What he truly wanted…

She held his gaze. Her throat caught as she swallowed. "Sometimes we need to take the wrong path before we can see the right one," she said. Then she turned away from him, picked up her pen and scanned back through her notes—her signal for them to restart the session.

She didn't know how she ought to feel about Henry's confession that he'd considered Ablation. It wasn't like she wanted to be with him, so why would it matter if he destroyed his Ink and committed himself to a For Now? Maybe it would have been easier that way—at least then he wouldn't spend his whole life waiting for a relationship that was never going to happen.

But perhaps if he knew about her own silly mistake, he wouldn't want her as his soulmate.

Her heart sank a little, though there was no reason for that thought to bother her either.

oOoOo

Henry tried to focus on talking Elizabeth through the problem of evil, but he couldn't help but notice that she was quieter than she'd been before Rochana's appearance and that she'd covered her Ink over again too. He felt like they'd been making progress recently—with each other, not just her studies—especially when the previous evening she'd confessed that she could like him and he got the feeling that maybe at least some part of her did like him, and he didn't want to return to the plain civility or open hostility of before.

Maybe she felt betrayed by his mention of Ablation—imagine what it would feel like to wait your entire life for your soulmate, only for it to never happen because they'd chosen someone else and had removed their Ink with Ablation. Or maybe she feared that one day he would change his mind about her and cast her aside like he'd done with Rochana—she'd mentioned her parents had died, and though he was no psychology student, he wondered if that had something to do with his Ink's inability to cross over onto her skin: maybe she feared letting another person in only for them to disappear again.

He wanted to apologise for considering Ablation even for one second and to reassure her that things between them would be different. But how was he supposed to broach that conversation when they weren't even in a relationship and she still insisted that she didn't want to be with him?

At the end of the session, Elizabeth rested her hand against the table, her fingers flat against the surface, her palm curling over the edge, and she reached down into the purse that slouched against her chair on the opposite side.

An urgent jitter tightened the pit of Henry's chest.

He needed to say something, before silence between them became the norm.

"Hey." He covered her hand with his own.

He was about to ask if everything was okay—if everything between them was okay—and suggest they go somewhere to talk, but before he could, the Ink kitten charged onto his forearm, pounced on top of the Ink puppy and pinned the Ink puppy down by its throat.

The Ink kitten growled.

"What the fuck?" Henry held his arm away from him and stared at the Inks.

Elizabeth turned and looked at his arm. Her eyes widened. "Shit."

She grabbed hold of his wrist and he could feel the pull on the Ink kitten as she tried to drag it off the puppy, which lay on its back, its paws in the air, frozen in a perfect display of submission.

"Leave him alone," she muttered at the Ink kitten.

The Ink kitten slid a few centimetres down his arm, still growling.

With the grip on its throat released, Henry expected the Ink puppy to scramble to its paws, run away and hide, but rather than doing so (or showing any sign of self-preservation), it continued to lie there, on its back, watching the Ink kitten, its tail slowly sweeping from side to side.

Henry frowned. "I think he likes it."

Elizabeth shot him a dark look. "Don't encourage her."

The Ink puppy definitely didn't radiate any kind of fear or distress, though. Instead, it gave off a gentle longing, the same hopeful ache he felt each time he saw Elizabeth. And as for the Ink kitten…it sparked with something sharp and bitter and prickling—it reminded him of being sixteen years old, climbing off the bus and trudging through the parking lot at school, Dan Robinson pulling up in a brand new Datsun 280ZX, leather seats, metallic paint, black and gold. Hey, McCord.

And it struck him that Elizabeth wasn't upset or mad about his history with Rochana.

He looked to her. His eyes widened in a mix of surprise and hope. "You're jealous."

"What?" Her voice shot up.

Her grip on the Ink kitten slipped, and seizing the opportunity, the Ink kitten galloped back to the Ink puppy and grabbed it by the scruff of the neck this time.

"I'm not jealous." She scowled at him.

The Ink kitten grrred and shook the Ink puppy by the neck (not too hard), while the Ink puppy lounged back and gently batted at the Ink kitten with one paw.

Henry gave her a pointed look.

She flapped one hand. "That's just rough play."

"You do know I can feel her when she's on my skin? Her movements. Her moods." He raised his eyebrows on the final word for emphasis.

She eyed him, suspicious. "You can?"

He nodded.

"Oh." That suspicion fell away and gave rise to a faint blush.

But before that blush had time to blossom, she turned away from him, rose from her seat and lifted her purse onto the table. "Well, just because she's jealous, doesn't mean that I'm—"

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

She stopped and looked to him. Her gaze flitted all over his face, like she were checking off each square of a grid in random order, before she replied, "Studying."

He stood up, and ignoring the Inks that were now tussling on his arm, he tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "I want to take you somewhere."

The pink in her cheeks bled into crimson, but she managed to hold his gaze. "That's not exactly sticking to the terms of our strictly professional arrangement."

He shrugged. "Then we'll call it a field trip."

She paused. Her mouth opened slightly and her chin jutted to one side. "Where?"

"Somewhere I think you'll like."

"I have a paper due on Monday."

"Then spending the day with someone who can talk you through the broader context sounds like a great use of your time." He smirked. But his expression soon faded into sincerity. "Say yes."

She chewed on the edge of her bottom lip. It looked like she was wavering.

"I'm going anyway, so you won't be able to find me in the library when you need help."

Her expression darkened and she glared at him in a way that suggested she was more than eager to protest the 'needing help' comment. But instead, she huffed. "Fine. But only because I want to talk through the paper, not because I'm jealous."

He quirked an eyebrow, the smirk returning. "So you are jealous?"

"That's not what I said." Her voice strained and she threw one hand up.

He caught hold of her hand and stepped towards her, bringing them toe to toe. "There's no reason for you to be jealous." He stared down into her eyes.

She stared back. The irritation melted away. Her throat bobbed with a swallow.

Yeah…they were definitely making progress.

He smiled. "I'll pick you up at nine."