Soul could tell what his mother was thinking and it made the pit in his stomach become a canyon. He should have chewed a handful of TUMS before coming just to save himself from the churning, but there was no hope for that now. Shihab had even blessed them with his presence, sitting in an ornate armchair with his reading glasses balanced on his nose and his computer in his lap. While he might not have looked all that attentive, Soul knew the difference; Shihab was simply silently stalking his prey while Lenora always charged right in.

"You left Layla at home," she prompted as she primly laid her hands in her lap. "So you must actually want to have a conversation rather than hiding behind your niece."

Daughter, he wanted to snap, but he pulled in a slow breath to quell the rage. I say only what I need to say. "We do need to talk. You, Dad, and me."

Shihab's eyes never left the screen.

Lenora gave an all-suffering sigh. "What is it we've done this time, Solomon?"

Ignore it , he coached but still had to swallow back the bitter bile. "Layla and I talked about it, and she wants to take a year off from seein' you two." Each word brought a slow tightening to his fingers, clenching into the fabric above his knees.

A haughty laugh shot from her mouth. "You're joking."

"No contact for a year," he repeated as he shook his head.

Lenora stood and paced for a moment before coming to Shihab's side, digging a hand into his shoulder. "We're not doing this again, Solomon. Whatever it is that's set you off this time, forget it. You can't just cut and run whenever you like. Not when there's a child involved."

"I'm not runnin'." Moving lips were always his mother's way, but Soul's glare fell on his father whose own stare had finally lifted off the screen. "Layla and I are gonna keep livin' here. I know what happened with Viv, so I wanna honor–"

"Don't you dare ," his mother hissed as her fingers dug divots into his father's shirt. Shihab closed the laptop and placed his hand over hers, more to loosen the grip than for comfort. "What? Have you been conversing with the dead? Or has all that body ink finally gone to your brain?"

A delirious little laugh bubbled to the surface, making him crack half a smile. She's seriously accusing me of whipping out the Ouija board? "Mom, your reaction is enough to tell me I'm right even if Viv hadn't written it down word for word. And none of that matters anyway– I asked Layla, and she said she wanted to take a break, so it's her decision."

" Her decision," Lenora scoffed as she abandoned Shihab's side to loom over Soul. "As if a child makes these kinds of decisions. Just be honest for once in your life, Solomon. You want to punish us again, and taking our granddaughter away is how you plan to do it!"

"Punish you ?" His next laugh was in no way small, leaping from his mouth with derisive force. Soul couldn't help but stare at her, memorizing this moment as the last he was ever going to see of her. Because I'll let Layla make her decision, but I'm making mine right now. "Me leavin' was never to punish you !" The snap of his voice propelled her back a step and Soul took advantage of it by getting to his feet. "You think I could stand stayin' here with your daily diatribes on how I'll never be my brother?"

Soul's hand shot out, finally pointing a finger at a man who'd never had to stomach the blame in his life. "Or Dad? Who hasn't fucking spoken a word to me since I told him I wasn't just gonna be his workhorse?" He pushed forward, standing in front of Shihab as his clenched fists shook at his side. "Well, Dad? Now's your chance. Prove me wrong."

"Solomon!" Lenora clasped a hand around Soul's elbow, but he wrenched himself away.

"No," Soul seethed through clenched teeth. "Shihab, prove me wrong. "

Those ever-cold eyes moved upward, honing in on Soul as they blinked away the scream, unimpressed. "I have no sons."

It should have torn a deeper fissure, but Soul found an odd stillness in it. This was no new information– nothing that Soul hadn't pieced together during each night he'd stare at the ceiling in his Seattle apartment. He wasn't sure he'd found catharsis in it either, just a blank spot, as if the memory of it all could be erased. Soul found the strength to nod, to release his aching fists, and to step back to get them both into his view. "And after today, I don't have any parents."

He turned from them, and the static returned. Anything that Lenora could say—or that Shihab wouldn't—was lost as he exited the house. The last time. He tried out the sentiment, still lost somewhere in the detachment of it. That was the last time.

Maka and Layla had certainly tried to make a sweet morning of it. Board games, books, coloring, and even weaving friendship bracelets had been attempted but all half-heartedly. There were too many glances at the clock, too many starts at the sound of a car anywhere near the house, and too many joint sighs that were far from relieved.

When the front door rattled, they were both up in a flash, falling over each other from the living room to the entryway. Soul hadn't even gotten the chance to toss off his coat before both of them were on top of him. Maka barely took the time to register the staining on his cheeks or the red puffiness to his eyes before she threw her arms around him. Layla was comfortably sandwiched between them, her hold firm around Soul's middle.

He let out a long, slow breath.

"Papa?" Layla was the first to attempt something other than steadying breaths.

"Yeah, bug." That was only a mediocre sign of life, leaving Maka no choice but to caress his hair while she renewed the pressure around his shoulders.

"We have ice cream," Layla murmured. "And we started making bracelets, but you're the best at it, so we stopped so you could help. And we want to watch a movie but we don't know which one to pick so you have to."

A tiny trickle of a chuckle left him. "Yeah, okay. Gotta let me go first though."

Both parties stayed stuck, but Maka did lift her head, meeting scarlet eyes that had been waiting for her. It was worse than she had initially realized since there was still a distinctive glistening sheen there. His lip trembled slightly even as he quirked it into half a smirk. "Ice cream first," she murmured to him.

Another weak bit of laughter sputtered over his lips as he raised his eyes towards the ceiling, opening and closing them slowly as if to focus. "Guess we're ruining our lunch then?"

Maka moved from smoothing his hair to drawing her thumb across his cheek, feeling the tackiness from the residual tears "Well, one of the flavors is pistachio, so that's something green, right?"

A laugh sputtered from his mouth, slowly morphing into a sob as his chin dropped back towards his chest. Both of his girls caught him, Layla hugging desperately around his middle as Maka worked to clear each bit of liquid that dared mar his cheeks. "I-I'm sorry," he moaned.

"Soul, it's fine," Maka murmured in return.

"Yeah, Papa, crying is fine," Layla seconded.

"No," he replied gruffly. Regardless of the puffiness of his eyes, they set seriously, brow furrowed as he managed to focus first on Layla. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

Maka shifted, giving the pair space as Layla stared up at her papa. The little girl blinked, her hands wrinkling the fabric over his stomach. "I'll forgive you if you make cocoa."

Soul scoffed weakly, a grim smile breaking his lips. "Cocoa and ice cream? You'll be up all night." He pinched her cheek, eliciting a cascade of giggles.

Layla nudged her face against his hand. "That's okay. It just means I'll stay up with you, Papa. Maka too. We all won't sleep until you do."

"I'd like to take that bet," Soul cooed as he smoothed back Layla's hair.

"No," Layla playfully pretended to mourn as she released him. It turned into a tug, and Maka followed the pair as they ambled towards the kitchen.

The utensils had already been laid out hours ago in anticipation, but the star of the show was still safely tucked away in the freezer. Soul proved his own griping baseless as he immediately went to pull out pint after pint, arranging them on the counter. "Did you leave any at the store?"

"Papa," Layla complained as she rolled her eyes.

"That definitely sounded like a dad joke." While teasing, Maka's murmur still had the sweet lilt of affection, and she knew the way she was staring at him, even if it was only to his back. It was admiration—definitely—but also a desperate swell of caring that she couldn't give a name.

Soul paused, head tilting slightly before he threw his chin over his shoulder. "That's what I am, right?"

It was no longer a swell but a torrent, and Maka rode it happily. She was well versed on rhetorical questions, and this was the best she'd heard by far. Her only answer to him was a smile so bright her cheeks ached.

Soul refused to budge– spent, exhausted, but still entirely tangled up in her. He nuzzled along her ear, tenderly taking a nip before he exhaled in a long sigh. Maka's hands were still tracing comfortingly through his hair, over his shoulders, down his back. They ended just below his hips, but instead of encouraging their inevitable parting, a renewed bit of pressure locked him in place. Her legs joined in, anchoring him to her.

This was nothing like the first time. Granted, a child was in the house, meaning that both had to practice the time-old tradition of parents muting what would normally be a raucous act. His first time with her was awash with need– want– desire. All the words that graced the pages of dime-store romance novels. It might have taken Soul some time to fall to temptation, but he certainly wasn't immune to it.

But being here with her now wasn't about that. He wasn't refusing to disengage because of some primal urge– as if he could or would go right back to pounding away after a bit of respite. This was… something else. He sighed again, unable to untangle it or them. "You okay? I should… I can move…" A smidge of selfishness reared its ugly head, but Soul couldn't push it away. I wanna stay like this.

"No, stay." It was as much permission as an order.

He couldn't help but chuckle. Maka hummed in reply, a warm buzz from her chest to his that gave life to the slow beat of his heart. Time didn't need to be counted, just the stroke of her hands over his skin. He had wanted it to be like some kind of solvent, breaking down the gunk of the day– of all the memories of his parents who were no longer that. As his muscles began to ache from holding his position, Soul had to swallow the fact that comfort did not necessarily equal catharsis.

The inevitable part came, and Soul wandered to the bathroom to freshen up. A quick peek at a comatose Layla, passing Maka in the hallway on her own trip to clean, and then back to bed. The sheets were empty and uneven until her return. Even when Maka climbed back in—limbs instantly tangling with his own—there was still a lump. Maka almost instantly gave it a voice: "Are you alright?"

There was never a more loaded question than that one. He huffed, eyed the ceiling, and let his fingers toy with a strand of her hair. "My mom was right about one thing."

"Soul–"

"Nah, gotta give her her due." He cut off the gentle admonishment he knew was coming. Maka'd fight for me, I know, but there's something I gotta admit. "I run, Maka."

The pads of her fingers dimpled into his chest, finding not so gentle purchase on him. "Like Seattle?"

"Yeah," he croaked as he brought a hand up to rub at his eyes preemptively. "But what she got wrong was why . I–" No comfort– no joining could bring an end to this, so Soul ripped the rest from the dark lining of his heart. "I didn't run because I was avoiding responsibility. I just couldn't… I'd rather be alone than be reminded that I'm unloved."

Maka's face instantly tilted, burying against his neck with a fierce breath. Next came her lips just under his jaw– a firm kiss despite their plush softness.

"I ran from them– from Wes– just so I wouldn't find out how much I didn't matter." He let out a shaking breath, surprised by the lack of tears. Maybe I'm dried out at this point. A bitter smile stretched his lips. "And even after Layla, I still sorta… I ran from loving her, too. Not on the outside, but all the times I told myself I was just her uncle, or keeping this house like a museum. All of it was a reminder that this life wasn't mine."

She slid up on her elbow, face now hovering over his so she could show off pleading eyes.

"I know," he murmured while his smile crinkled at the end. "I know it's not like that. I… I've changed." He touched her cheek, then let the pads of his fingers drift along her jaw. "I think that's why I told them I was never going to see them again."

"Oh, Soul…" Maka grasped his hand, kissing the palm.

Soul chuckled dryly. "It's not a bad thing."

"It's a terrible thing," she muttered back. "How could they just–"

"Not love me?" That was supposed to rip and tear, but it only settled him further. "I guess I'll never know why, but I'm not gonna run from it anymore. I'm just gonna put it to rest because I don't need to keep trying with them. I know who loves me, and maybe they're the only people I need." "Love" was new and strange on his tongue, but he allowed it to drift off like a chorus. In her silence, he slid his hand out of her grasp so it could tuck her hair behind her ear and then travel the length of the strand. "I meant it when I said leaving you wasn't an option. I won't run. Not again."

"I–" She gaped for a moment, letting it shut after a shaky sigh. Her eyes glossed as her hand fell over his heart as if ready to detect a lie. "You're not doing this just for Layla or for me, right?"

He shook his head softly. "Not just . It has something to do with the two of you, yeah, but I want it for myself, too." Soul lifted off the pillow, just enough to catch her lips and have them for a fleeting kiss. "I wanna stay and find out if you could learn to love me." He delayed anything else with another soft caress. "Even if I'm scared that you won't."

Her pointer interrupted, acting as punctuation as it pressed to his lips. "Don't. Just don't say that. Don't. "

His mumble still moved past the barrier: "Maka, you made your list, and now I wanna make mine." Soul attempted to lift the obstruction but her other fingers joined in, strengthening the blockade.

"It's not that I don't care about your requirements." Even though they'd passed this time in bed in whispers, Maka's voice was now strong and true. "It's just the wording is wrong."

Regardless of the tumult his heart was still in, Soul managed a healthy snicker. "You're knocking my word choice ?" His incredulity was laced with joy– contentment borne from her consistency.

"Yes." She stubbornly slid her hand so her palm could cover the route for any more words from him. Once silenced, Maka drifted back to a whisper. "It's not an if , Soul, it's a when ."

If? Now only allowed the expression of his eyebrows, Soul popped them upward before letting them scrunch. When?

"I hate to use clichés, but… I've never felt this way before." She moved her hand away but Soul had no hopes of filling in any blanks since the swell of his heart was drowning out any other function. "It's not if I could love you, it's when I'm comfortable– when I'm able to express it." Maka's lip trembled, gaping and then slipping shut again. "I don't even know if that makes sense." Her voice fell off into a weak warble as she tried to drop her head against his chest.

Soul caught her instead, cradling her cheek and pulling her into another tender kiss. "I get it." His own murmur was hoarse, cracking with the weight of it. Of course I get it. It's not an if. It's never been an if for me.