The square-shaped white tile, straight lines neatly crossing one another, created the path for feet that needed a respite from reality. They provided options, doors to open, directions in which to walk, and other places to be outside those four walls. Feet moved through the hospital's hallways, stringing along with them an IV pole and the hope of symbolic escape.


Knuckles tapped against Soda's door, before a head poked in, Steve's eyes recognizing his friend's absence from the room. "Hey, Soda, you in the bathroom or something?"

Hearing no reply, Steve knocked on the bathroom door and waited a second, before opening it. Seeing Soda also wasn't in there, he sighed, Darry's recent words in his mind. "No wonder he said he wanted to be alone."


Feet stepped onto a carpeted floor, as Soda wheeled the IV pole along with him. He looked out the large window in the front of the area he'd wandered into, able to see a view of this section of Tulsa. Cars moved along the street that led to the hospital, driving into and out of the parking lot. Farther away, Soda could see houses that made up the nearby neighborhoods, his eyes wandering in the direction of his own home. His gaze then shifted in the opposite direction, his mind picturing the DX he knew was only a few minutes from here.

Shaking off the thought of the station, Soda stepped closer to the window, looking down to see the more immediate vicinity. Through the glass, he saw a trail made up of small rocks that led to a fountain and a garden, each surrounded by grass, the area one that seemed removed from the hospital, a separate place of peace that couldn't coexist with the illness and injury associated with the facility.

Soda imagined being outside, stepping out among the sights and sounds of nature, walking down the street, the city moving around him. He pictured going back to typical daily life, grateful to still be here, all too aware of how death had been possible. He attempted to shake this thought off, realizing where it was leading. He stared out the window, seeing the life in the view, but also the risky possibilities and the lingering shades of the unknown.


"He's allowed to leave the room, right? He's probably just walking around."

"I know. I just don't like that he didn't tell anybody, and I think what happened is really starting to hit him."

Nicholas looked between Steve and Darry, before adding his own comment. "He probably needed to move around more. He's been here long enough to be feeling restless."

Pony echoed Nicholas' thought. "Yeah. This is Sodapop we're talking about. He hates being forced to sit still for too long."


The wheels on the IV pole rolled at Soda's side, as he stepped off the elevator. He followed the signs that would lead him back to his room, though he was in no hurry.

As he approached the corner whose path would take him to where he was supposed to be, Soda turned around to look at the elevator. The doors had closed, but he still imagined stepping back on it. But where can I even go? he wondered. He looked down at the IV tubing, just as he had earlier, feeling an urge to pull the needle out, though a glance at his bandaged arm again reminded him it was simply a representation of the truth.

Soda continued his walk away from the elevator and was passing one of the waiting areas when four pairs of eyes landed on him. "Hi. I just went for a walk."

Steve spoke up first. "We were wondering about you. Are you okay, man?"

Darry didn't wait for Soda to reply, before he was on his feet, standing toe to toe with his brother. "Sodapop, you're still a patient in this hospital. You can't just go wandering around and not even tell anybody what you're doing."

Soda fidgeted under Darry's gaze, before finding the voice he needed. "It's not like I could get in any trouble, Dar. I was just walking. I didn't escape or anything."

Steve went to Soda's side, attempting to break the tension. "Yeah, Superman, he's right here, not tossing out a rope to climb down from the nearest window."

Darry told himself to relax, the urge to snap out a reply seeming illogical when Soda did indeed stand right here in front of him.

Soda almost pointed out that he couldn't climb out a window anyway, given his current physical condition, but knowing that wasn't Steve's point, he dismissed the thought. "I'm fine, Darry. Maybe I should've told somebody, but I just needed to get out of that room and out of my head."

Darry considered giving further voice to his worry, but thought better of it. Instead, he secured an arm around Soda and started guiding him in the direction of his vacated hospital room. "All right. I got it. You're off the hook, little buddy."


"I didn't think it was that funny."

Soda laughed harder, reveling in the feeling, humor trying to extinguish any possibility of tears. "But it is, Stevie! You and your dad crack me up. It's tuff he's dating Audrey, and I know you. You wouldn't tease him so much if you weren't good with it."

Steve smiled at Soda's remarks, also truly glad to hear the laughter. He remembered his conversation with Penny, deciding to mention it to his friend. "Hey, man, I did call Penny, like you asked me to. She said she'd been worried since you hadn't called yet this weekend cause that's not like you."

"Yeah. I always give her a call sometime on Friday or Saturday. Especially if we don't talk during the week. She say anything else?"

"Well, she wants to see you, of course. To see for herself that you're okay. But I did tell her you are. I made sure to say that much before I even told her what happened."

"Yeah, hopefully, I can go home tomorrow, and I'll call her then."

"So I've been wondering. What's the deal with you two anyway?"

"What do you mean? She's my girl. You know that."

"Yeah. I do know that, but you've been doing the same thing for a few months now."

"I don't know. I guess I like it this way. We both do. We talk, and we spend time together when we want to, but it's like there's no pressure or anything."

"No pressure, huh? I think I can dig that."

Soda reached for the blanket at the foot of his bed, draping it over his lap, as his voice grew quiet. "Stevie?"

Seeing the change in his friend, Steve scooted to the edge of his chair. "Yeah, Soda?"

"What I said to you before, I really can't talk about it. I can't talk about what happened, and I kind of think Darry wants me to."

"Why do you say that?"

"He was asking me if I'm okay and said he didn't just mean physically. Then, he wanted me to promise I'd tell him if I start having a hard time about what happened."

"Buddy, it sounds like he just wants to make sure you know he's there for you if, and when, you do need to talk."

"I know. That too. But I still think he wants me to talk, and I can't."

"You don't have to, man. And it's only been a couple of days, so that's okay."

"I don't think I'll ever be able to. I'm telling you this cause I thought you'd understand. You know? With not being able to talk about something?"

"Sure. I do understand." Steve got up from his chair and sat on the edge of Soda's bed. He took his hand, squeezing it gently. "I won't make you talk about anything, Sodapop. But are you having a hard time with what happened? I'm asking because, if you feel the way you do about what Darry said and about talking, it makes me think you might be."

Soda took a long breath, keeping his eyes dry. "I guess maybe I am. But, like you said, it's only been a couple of days, and my nurse told me it's normal if it's hard. I mean, I couldn't even look when she took the old bandage off."

"That makes sense, man. I can see why you wouldn't want to look."

"The nurse said it's a reminder of-" Soda swallowed, before finding he needed to take in another breath to ease the building tension.

"You don't have to explain. Believe me, buddy. I get it."

"I think I'll be better once I go home. It'll get easier, and I'll be fine with it all then."

Steve released Soda's hand and put his arms around him, as his own words belied his internal doubt. "Yeah, buddy. Maybe you just need some time."


"You did say your fingers felt tingly sometimes, Sodapop."

Soda recalled those words he'd said to Darry, now regretting them. "But that doesn't mean anything, does it? You guys said it's healing."

Dr. Simons measured his words, wanting to be truthful, but also careful, aware of the trauma his patient had gone through so recently. "Your wound is healing, Sodapop. However, the sort of symptom your brother just mentioned could be an indication of nerve damage. Have you had any pain in your fingers, your hand, or your arm?"

Soda nodded, the word damage echoing in his mind. "Um, all of those, actually. But mostly my fingers."

Darry closed his eyes for a few seconds, before speaking to the doctor. "So what do you do now?"

Dr. Simons picked up the folder he'd brought into the room, sifting through it, as he answered Darry's question. "I have a few more questions, but I'll set up an appointment for Sodapop to have some tests to see exactly what's going on, and we'll go from there."


Steve's locker door slammed shut, before he pounded his fist against it. "Damn it. This is driving me crazy."

"You don't want to be here anymore than I do, do you?"

Steve turned, coming face to face with Pony. "Hey, Kid. No, I sure don't."

Pony leaned against the lockers, holding his science book and notebook underneath one arm. "I hope Soda's going home. I just don't like not knowing if there's anything going on with him right now."

"Look, Kid, I know I'm going to sound like a hypocrite here, after what you just saw. But I'm sure there's not. He's been doing well enough. More than likely, me and you both are stressing and he'll be home chillin' on the couch, before school even lets out."


"I wasn't trying to hide it, Darry. Stop making a big deal."

Darry fought the urge to snap, realizing Soda didn't need that right now, but he lost the battle. "But it is a big deal, Sodapop! You didn't tell me anything was hurting. And if Dr. Simons hadn't started asking you questions, you weren't going to tell him about any of it."

Soda, his left hand now free of the IV, pulled a set of clothes from the bag Darry had brought him. "It's not like I knew what it meant, okay? Damn, of course, after something like that, my arm and everything wouldn't feel right. Besides, he's a doctor, and he knows what to ask me. I didn't have to figure it out."

"This is serious, little buddy. I just want to make sure you understand that. If something is going on, you can't ignore it and pretend-"

"You don't think I know that, Darry? I know it's serious, and I'm not pretending, so don't even say that to me!"

Realizing how loud they were both getting, while still within the walls of Soda's hospital room, Darry sat down in one of the chairs, facing away from his brother, as he counted backward from ten.

Soda sat at the foot of his bed, the jeans and t-shirt he was going to change into on his lap, his eyes on the tile floor. "Darry, I'm sorry, okay? I really wasn't trying to keep anything from you or the doctor, and I don't want to fight with you right now."

Darry let out the breath he'd been holding, calmer than he'd been when he last spoke. He turned to face Soda. "I don't want to fight with you either. I'm sorry. You know how I can get when I'm worried."

"Yeah. I know. But if not for you, I wouldn't even still be here. So stop worrying."

"That's easier said than done." Darry nodded toward the clothes in Soda's lap. "Are you going to need help with getting dressed?"

Soda looked down at his right arm, still bandaged, but now free of the splint. "I think I can manage. I've been able to move it okay."

"Just be careful."

Soda got to his feet, heading toward the bathroom. "I will, Dar. I'll tell you if I need help."

Darry watched Soda step into the bathroom, the door closing behind him. "Please make sure you do, little buddy. Please make sure you do."


"So is it true, Steve? Did Sodapop really get shot?"

Steve looked up from the class notes he'd simply been staring at to see Evie sit down beside him on the bench in the courtyard. "Yeah. It's true."

Evie touched Steve's shoulder. "So how is he?"

"He's doing okay. It could've been a hell of a lot worse. He should go home soon. Maybe today."

"Please tell him I said hi. I was so worried when I heard, but when I saw you were here today, I thought that must mean he wasn't...Well, that he would be okay."

"Darry saved his life. If he hadn't been there, Soda probably would've bled to death right there at the DX."

"I'm so glad he's going to be all right. But I still can't even imagine."

"I had just left, Evie. I had just gone home right before it happened."

"That's a good thing, or both of you might've been hurt."

"Yeah. Sure. It's a real good thing."


"It looks like you're all set to go home, Sodapop. Do you have any questions?"

Soda looked at the instructions Dr. Simons had given him for how to care for his wound, while it healed. "Um, when do you think I'll be able to go back to work?"

Darry shook his head, as he picked up the prescriptions and put them in the bag of medical supplies. "Soda, I don't think-"

Soda didn't let Darry finish. "No, Darry. I know we need the money, and I can't just sit at home."

Dr. Simons answered Soda's question. "That's not something I can say for certain yet. I'll see you back next week to remove the stitches, so not before then. Given the nature of your job, you may not be able to go back to full duty right away either. Also, I want to make sure you know that if there is nerve damage, those symptoms could affect your ability to perform certain tasks."

Soda thought of his job, of working on cars, imagining something that came naturally to him becoming a challenge. "Um, I guess I should've known that, but I'll talk to Mr. Coleman. I think he'd help me out if there's, you know, stuff I can't do."

Darry added his thoughts on the matter. "I'm sure he will, little buddy. We'll figure everything out. You'll go back when you're ready. I want you to heal as much as you can first."


"I almost rescheduled, but then, I kind of figured I should come."

Laura nodded, before letting Steve known he could continue. "Okay. Why would you reschedule?"

Steve thought back over the last few days, realizing it would be best if he told Laura all of what had occurred. "Um, Friday night, Soda and me, we were working late. I was going to stay longer, but he told me to go, that he would close up."

"Okay. Go on, Steve."

"So I left. I went home. I left Soda there at the DX."

Laura watched, as Steve stood up and walked toward the window, his feet moving back and forth on the floor in front of it. "All right. I'm listening."

"I know that. I just keep thinking I shouldn't feel like this. I left, and then, a while after that, Soda's brother, Darry, called me. He told me Soda got shot."

"Oh no! I'm so sorry to hear that."

"I shouldn't have left him. I should've stayed."

"You didn't know that was going to happen. You couldn't have."

Steve's voice started to shake, tears blurring his vision. "But I wasn't there for him. I was at home, just goofing off and hanging out with my dad, and Soda-" He broke off, cries not allowing him to finish.

Laura saw Steve press himself against the wall, sliding down to the floor, as he sobbed. She couldn't deny the tears in her own eyes, as she crossed the room and crouched down beside her client. "Steve, I want you to know I'm hearing you, okay? So, when you can, tell me this. After Darry called, what did you do next?"

Steve kept his head against the wall, tears pouring from his eyes. "I told my dad. We went to the hospital. I saw Soda after he got out of surgery."

"And what did you do when you saw him?"

"I sat there with him and held onto him. He told me it hurt, and he was scared when it happened."

"So you were with him at the hospital when he needed you. That means you were there for him."

"But I left! I was at home, like it was any other night, while he was bleeding from being shot!"

"That didn't happen because you left. You went home because, as far as you knew, it was a normal night."

Steve felt more tears coming, as he brought his knees to his chest and laid his head down. "Soda's always there for me, but I left, and he almost died."


"I'll be back soon, little buddy. I'm just going to fill these prescriptions."

Soda, who was resting on the couch, took a bite of the chocolate cake in front of him, his eyes on the TV screen. "Sure, Dar. Thanks for doing that."

Darry tucked the prescriptions in his wallet, then started to leave. He'd only taken one step forward, before he stopped and looked back at Soda.

Soda spoke with his mouth full of cake. "What, Darry? Lose your keys or something?"

"No. Nothing like that."

Soda shrugged, his gaze returning to the TV.

Darry's eyes still lingered on Soda, as he picked up his keys. Shoving them in his pocket, he went to his brother's side and pulled him into a hug. "I'm so glad you're home, Pepsi Cola. I'll see you when I get back."


"I don't even want to talk anymore. I don't have to, do I?"

Laura shook her head in reply to Steve's words. "No. You don't. We can end early, if you need to."

Steve, now back in his usual chair, pressed the tissue Laura had given him to his face, willing the tears not to start again. "Okay. I just want to go find out if Soda's home."

"That's fine, Steve. And it may be just what you need right now. But please remember you can call, if you need me."


"I'm okay, Pone. Really. I don't need anything. Darry just went to get my medicine."

Pony eyed Soda, not hiding his doubt. "Okay. If you say so. So these tests you have to have, when will they do it?"

Soda looked at his right hand, able to feel the tingle in his fingers. "I don't know yet. Dr. Simons will set it up for me. It's some sort of scan thing, I guess."

"So if you do have nerve damage, what happens then?"

"I'm not sure. I think it depends how bad it is."

"Does Dr. Simons think it's bad?"

"He didn't really say, but it's not as bad as it could be. I know that because he was asking a bunch of questions about symptoms I don't have. I can move okay, and it's not like I can't feel my arm or hand. It doesn't always hurt either."

"Hey, Sodapop, did they spring you?"

Soda was quick to reply to Steve's voice, a smile on his face. "Yes, they did, Steve!"

Pony grinned, heading toward the back door. "I'm going to have a smoke, then do my homework. Call me if you need anything, Sodapop."

Soda nodded at Pony, as the door closed behind him. He turned to see Steve, as he stepped into the living room. "You look like hell, man."

Steve dropped down beside Soda, aware his face still carried the evidence of his meltdown in Laura's office. "Yeah. I know."

"Why?"

"I was just, um, talking about some stuff with Laura."

"Were you crying cause of me?"

Steve nodded, though he didn't plan to explain beyond that. "I was. But I'm okay. Just needed to get it out. So how long you been home?"

"Not long. It took a little time with paperwork and stuff, and I kind of had to talk to Dr. Simons about something that's been going on. I really should've told him sooner, but I just didn't."

"What is it?"

"Promise you won't get on my back over not saying anything? Darry already did."

"I won't, Sodapop. What's going on?"

"Dr. Simons thinks I might have symptoms of nerve damage."

"He said he would keep an eye on you for that, just in case. But what's been happening?"

"My fingers hurt sometimes. First, they would feel kind of tingly. It was weird. I did mention that to Darry. But I didn't tell him anything hurt."

"Does it hurt anywhere else?"

"Yeah. My hand and my arm too, but I mean, not where the bandage is. That does hurt sometimes, but it's a different pain. Anyway, they don't always hurt, and sometimes, they feel sort of numb."

"What can they do about it?"

"Just some tests first, but I think that won't be until after I get the stitches out next week. I asked when I can go back to work, but Dr. Simons isn't sure yet."

"You don't need to go back too soon, buddy. You need to heal up a little more first."

"I know. And things are better than they used to be around here with money and all, but my check still helps."

"You know we got your back. So don't even worry about any of that. You focus on recovering, man. That's your job for right now."


Darry read the labels on the two prescription bottles, confirming one was an antibiotic and the other a medication for pain. He set them down on the counter, before taking out his wallet to count what remained of the cash he'd used to cover the expense at the pharmacy.

A moment later, when Darry sighed and closed his wallet, he looked up to see Steve holding some money out to him. "What's this for?"

Steve reached for Darry's hand and shoved the bills into it. "Take it. I know Soda can't go back to work yet."

"Steve, I can't-"

"Don't argue with me, Superman. I don't want my friend in there worrying about anything besides being okay, and I know you got extra bills with all this. More coming too. I'll help as much as I can."

Darry took the cash, before squeezing Steve's shoulder. "Thank you, Steve. You're right. I told Soda we'll figure it out, but we can sure use the help."

"I want to help you out, Darry. Soda's my brother too. You all are."


Penny's arms wrapped around Soda, before she pulled back and kissed his lips. "I was so worried, and I missed you, Sodapop."

Soda smiled, as he tucked Penny's blond hair behind her ear. "I missed you too. But I'm all right. It's rough, but at least, I got to come home."

Penny, her hand gentle, touched the bandage on Soda's arm. "It must've been terrible for you. It scared me just to hear about it when Steve called me. I can't even imagine."

"Trust me. You don't want to." Soda didn't look at the bandage, instead keeping his eyes on Penny. "But you want to be a nurse someday, so I'm sure you'll see plenty of stuff like this."

"Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes. It hurt the most when-" Soda shook his head, blinking away the images, as he reworded his thought. "Well, when it happened."

"But you're sure you're going to be all right?"

"Yeah. I'm sure." Soda reached for Penny's hand and held onto it. "I'm home now, so I'm going to be just fine."


Steve closed the Bible that was beside him, a gift from Nicholas that he remembered opening on Christmas morning. He traced his finger over the gold lettering on the cover that spelled out his name, also recalling how he himself had struggled with what to give his dad that most recent Christmas Day. Nothing had seemed like enough in light of all they'd been through just before that.

Steve, thinking of his session with Laura and the feelings that had poured out, covered his face with his hands. "God, I don't know if that even helped."

There was a knock on the door, followed by Nicholas' voice. "You okay, Son? How was Soda doing?"

Steve stayed silent, unsure of what would come out if he were to speak.

Nicholas crossed the room to sit beside Steve. "Hey, what's going on? I'd rather you yell at me than be quiet like this."

"But I don't feel like yelling anymore, Dad. It hurts."

"Was Soda doing all right when you saw him?"

"Yeah. He's home." Steve felt Nicholas' hand on his back, and instead of saying anything else, wrapped both arms around him.

Nicholas hugged Steve back, his son's tight hold scaring him, given the fears and struggles that had once accompanied it. "I'm here, Son. Talk to me."

Steve pressed his face into his dad's chest, hands gripping the back of his shirt. "I was talking to Laura today, and we ended early. Cause I was so overwhelmed. I cried almost the whole time."

"Okay. I can see how that would happen. It's been a hard few days."

"I didn't want to talk anymore, so she didn't make me."

"I wouldn't think she would."

"I'm feeling things that don't make sense again, Dad."

"What kind of things, Son? I've never thought anything you've told me didn't make sense."

"I'm scared, and I feel guilty. I was telling Laura about Friday night, and it all just came out."

Hearing Steve utter the word guilty, Nicholas gave him a squeeze, before pushing him back, hands on his shoulders. "Why would you feel guilty?"

Steve's gaze moved down to his lap, part of him regretting bringing this up, as he knew Nicholas wouldn't let him bury it. "Cause I left."

"Left? Left where?"

"The DX."

"Son, it's not your fault Soda got hurt."

"That's not what I mean. I mean he was alone. He could've been dying, and I wasn't there for him."

Nicholas met Steve's eyes, keeping his voice even, though his son's words had struck him. "But he didn't die, and you're here for him now. Darry got to him in time. Just like we already talked about, it was a normal night until he called. You had no idea what was happening, Son."

Steve broke the eye contact, knowing his dad spoke the truth, even as the words did nothing to quench the guilt. "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm trying. I know I shouldn't feel like this."

"There's nothing to be sorry for. You almost lost your best friend, and you're reacting to it. So I understand how you could feel bad."

"I keep telling myself Soda's okay, and it seems like that should be enough. But it's still just there, and I don't know how to make it better. I wasn't even going to say anything about it at all, but I guess I needed to."

"I'm sure you did, Son." Nicholas brought a hand up to stroke Steve's hair, bracing himself for the scenario he was about to put into words. "Let me ask you something."

"Okay."

"What if Soda had left instead of you? What if you" Nicholas sucked in a breath and grasped Steve's hand. "had been the one who got shot?"

"I don't understand what you're asking, Dad."

"What if you'd been the one who got shot, and Soda was feeling like you are now? Should he feel guilty for not being there with you?"

"No. Of course not. Cause he couldn't have known, and if he'd been there, he might have gotten hurt too."

"Exactly. I bet if you asked Soda, he'd tell you he's glad you weren't there."


"Thanks for helping me, Dar. I feel a lot cleaner."

Darry started to remove the plastic bag that had covered Soda's bandage, as he responded to the gratitude. "You smell better too."

Soda chuckled, his freshly washed hair still wet from his recent shower. "Hey, I didn't stink!"

Pony, a history textbook on his lap, joined the conversation. "You must've not been able to smell yourself."

Soda tossed the wet plastic bag in Pony's direction, frowning when it floated to the floor, before it could get to him. "Better watch it, little brother."

Pony kept his eyes on the history chapter he was reading, as he smiled. "Or what? You'll throw a plastic bag at me and miss?"

Darry smiled too, appreciative of the brotherly teasing within the walls of their home. He reached for the instructions that Dr. Simons had sent with them, reading the written details on how to change Soda's wound dressing, as well as signs to watch for that could indicate a problem.

Seeing what Darry was reading and recalling Dr. Simons verbal directions, Soda felt his heartbeat quicken. "He said everyday, right?"

Darry, thinking of Soda's reaction when Diane had changed out the bandage, touched his brother's shoulder. "You just need a distraction, little buddy. I promise it'll get easier."


Steve reached for his bottle of antidepressant medication, removing it from the cabinet, where it was now kept in the kitchen. Twisting the cap off, he saw there were only three pills left. "Hey, Dad, do you know where my new prescription is? This one's out of refills, and it's just about gone."

Nicholas sifted through some papers and envelopes that were on the counter, finding the blue slip with Dr. Reynolds writing scribbled on it. "I found it, Son."

Steve nodded, as he swallowed one of the pills, then took a long drink of water. "Okay. I'll go fill it tomorrow, before I go to work."

Nicholas stared at the prescription, the psychiatrist's messy scrawl a reminder of what had led to Steve being given medicine in the first place. "No. Don't worry about it, Son. I'll take care of it."


"Sodapop, look at me."

At Pony's words, Soda blinked, breaking out of the daze he'd fallen into, as Darry changed his bandage. "Sorry, Pone. I'm trying to listen."

Darry wrapped the new bandage around Soda's arm, the beige material pressing into the white gauze underneath it. "I'm just about done, little buddy."

Pony continued the story he'd been telling. "So then TwoBit laughed so hard, I thought he was going to piss his pants..."

Soda tried to focus on Pony's words, but his eyes wandered to the window, seeing the darkening sky. He heard the sound of the medical tape being ripped from its roll, then felt Darry's hands use it to seal the bandage.

"All right. I'm done. You did better that time, little buddy."

Upon hearing Darry's words, Soda snapped back into the living room, where he sat with his brothers. "Um, I think I need to go to sleep, Dar. I'm awful tired, and it'll be good to be back in my own bed."


"You don't have to tell me that anymore, Dad. I know."

Before replying to Steve's words, Nicholas tucked the blanket around his shoulders, then paused for a moment. "But it's important for me to tell you right now anyway. It sounds like you're struggling and-"

Steve lifted himself up off his pillow. "I'm not struggling, Dad. I'm just...feeling a lot of things."

"Okay, Son. But still. I think you need to hear me say I'm here for you. Just in case you do start to struggle, I want those words to be in your head and in your heart."


The fear slithered from one corner to the next, before settling in the center of Soda's heart. While he slept, the slumber at first peaceful on the surface, his subconscious saw the line separating the past and present begin to blur.