Shoto had been up studying. Not waiting for Bashira. Still, he hadn't noticed his shoulders had been tighter than usual until he heard her come in and the muscles relaxed. Tea suddenly appealed to him (he must have needed some hydration or supplements) so he took a break and headed for the kitchen.

Bashira was there, pouring herself a glass of water.

"Hi," Shoto said. It was a normal greeting but it somehow felt odd. "How did it go?"

"Fine." Bashira's reply was detached. She took a sip and swallowed. It seemed to Shoto to take longer than usual. "It was fun."

Bashira kept her back to him. She faced the counter and shuffled over to the sink without lifting her head. It was unusual.

Shoto's brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

Bashira didn't answer. Shoto waited for the inevitable "it's nothing". He fully expected her to brush off his question, put up walls and walk away. Yet while she stayed silent, Bashira also stilled. Shoto got the impression that she was debating and he waited, readying himself for whatever she would throw at him.

"My dad called me today."

The statement was something that Shoto hadn't had the chance to consider in his musing. It wasn't as serious as some of the other possibilities that'd crossed his mind but maybe that made it more worrisome.

Didn't Bashira and her dad get along, though? They didn't seem close but at least Bashira hadn't said anything particularly demeaning about the man.

Shoto slipped his hands into his pajama pant's pockets. "What did you talk about?"

"We didn't talk," Bashira said, her shoulders sinking. Shoto vaguely wanted to touch her, to comfort her, but he stayed on his side of the room. "He called while I was with the girls, so I missed it. I only just saw his massage."

"What did he say?"

"I didn't listen to it."

A flurry of thoughts hit Shoto; why not? Why are you worrying if you don't know the situation? What are you afraid of? But he kept it all to himself. He didn't think it was his place to comment, not when Bashira probably wasn't comfortable enough with him to hear all of his honest opinions.

"Will you?" Shoto asked instead.

Bashira lowered her glass slowly, letting it sit on the counter with a soft click. Her head fell forward and Shoto could only imagine her expression. As much as he wanted to help he wasn't sure how, or if, she would let him.

Bashira gave a weak huff. "Should I talk to him?"

Shoto didn't answer right away. It was hard to say when he didn't completely understand the relationship between Bashira and her father. "I don't think it could be too damaging."

Bashira turned to look at him then, her expression something like lazy incredulousness. There were probably a lot of things she would have liked to quip back at Shoto but she held back, wilting back towards the counter instead.

"Maybe."

It was such a non-devoted answer that even Shoto understood a change of subject was in order.

"What were you all up to earlier anyway?" The two-toned man questioned. "What did you girls do?"

"We talked about you, and crushes, and sex. Then we had a naked pillow fight. The usual."

Shoto blinked, dubious, not sure how to register or respond. Bashira glanced back towards him, putting an effort into smirking.

"Just kidding," his wife said. But her features were still forced, so Shoto wasn't convinced.

The teenagers stared at each other for a full minute. Shoto's gaze was curious but Bashira had a more calculating tone to her eyes. The exchanged stretched until, again, Bashira was the first to look away.

"I'll listen to my dad's message later," Bashira promised the counter, her face lowering towards it.

"Do you want me to be with you?" Shoto asked. The words came out before he'd entirely digested the thought, so even he was left stumped at the offer.

Bashira went even stiffer and even more silent. Shoto was confused but he figured that there was more to the story than Bashira had told him, or at least more hard feelings than she had expressed – whether towards him, personally, or her towards father. He could at least have empathy with the latter fact.

"…No. It's fine. I'll be fine."

Shoto could only accept Bashira's decision, and her reclusive cues, and retreat back to his own room, where he would be thinking too much to concentrate on studying or sleep.

(A/N)

I know this is a pathetic update, but I felt bad about leaving the last part off on a cliff hanger and wanted to at least wrap that up.

I could also lament about the poor emotional state I've been in lately, but as COVID-19 only gets worse, I think all of our lives are getting more difficult. I was in a bad mental place already earlier this year, honestly, and the threat of the virus just completely wiped me out financially and emotionally. I'm sorry (to both myself and my readers) that writing just doesn't afford me any release nowadays.

Please stay safe. I'm very happy that I've been able to find a decently paying job in the midst of all this after getting laid off, but I'm also so worried about getting sick by being out. I hope you all can *and will* safely work from home, or practice proper social distancing.