White light spills over Soul's terrified features in flashes. His fingers scroll, his eyes flicker, the muscles in his throat and jaw scream with firing tension.

The text went through.

I had another dream where I got to see you, it starts, and Soul lets the horror course through his blood and string his nerves with helpless shame.

It was an accident. He changed his mind. He didn't mean to.

His vision grays as the emboldened confession from his darkest hours rattles in his shaking grip. His breath is quick, and shallow, and labored.

Why the fuck did I do that?

His taut hands shut off his phone with a mockingly gentle click.

He cowers into himself, fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulders, knees pulled towards his chest. The tendons in his forearms and knuckles are stiff with raw adrenaline and shock. His wide-eyes tear into the darkness.

The flat surface of his phone refuses to bend where it's pressed against the curve of his muscle, no matter how tightly he wills it to break. Small crescents deepen where his nails curl into his skin.

Notifications remain silent. The screen remains black. Seconds pass, and pass, and the air disappears from his lungs.

His pulse drums with no pause between beats.

He remembers his brother cradling him to his chest, just like this, all those years ago, when he'd realized they'd never return to touch the dark watered sand and cold lake house- his arms over his small frame, locked in his care, letting his tears burn his then thin forearms.

He feels young again. It claws up his throat, scouring his insides. His hands are cold and he may have just lost someone for the second time.

This could be it.

His language, his fury, his disgusting pining all dumped into Maka's hands without warning. His desire to destroy everything they have, because he felt lonely.

This could be it.

Blindly, he rips his phone from his shoulder and dials a number.

The call rings, and rings, then disconnects.

A choked noise escapes his throat.

He calls again.

"Hmph, hello?" The sound slurs through his phone line with half-awake drowsiness.

Relief and terror flood in him.

"Help," Soul says hoarsely, "help me."

Blackstar's voice becomes alert in seconds. "Soul?"

"I fucked up," He rasps.

Nightmares. You're haunting me. Reaching. Stupid, pretty face. Would you lie? Would you lie?

"Wha- dude, what time is it-"

"I don't know what to do," He raves hurriedly. "I don't know what I'm going to do. I can't- I can't-"

"Where are you?" Blackstar interrupts sharply, "Are you safe?"

Soul's rapid breathing collects clouds of pain in his chest, the sound of Blackstar's words rushing him back to the cigarette-beach and hot car and muddled horizon.

"Answer me."

"Bed," Soul forces out, eyes squeezing shut. "I'm in bed."

"Okay, good. That's good."

"What am I gonna do? What can I fucking do?" His voice laces with the rough air, "what can I- Why can't I-"

He hears blackstar shit on the other end. "What did you-"

"It was an accident and I didn't mean to- and I didn't- why the fuck did it send-"

"Soul," Blackstar demands. "Tell me what happened."

"I was about to text her something stupid," Soul spits, "And then she popped in out of nowhere. I tried to delete what I was going to say but the fucking messge sent, and now I've messed up and I'm-" His words sharply cut back when he feels moisture dripping down his cheeks.

His shaky fingers release his arm and gently dab at the unrealized tears. Warm, and spares. In the darkness, he can make out their faint glistening on his fingertips.

"...What was the message?" Blackstar asks, tinged with a softer tone Soul never hears outside of their wet-eyed moments, and painful confessions.

"Everything," Soul hallows. "I've been writing to myself like a diary for the past week, and pasted it all the second I started to freak out and god, with what is in there, she's going to hate me."

"Wait, what? Isn't she still with her grandparents? I thought-"

"I don't know," Soul interjects with hysteric tremor. "I don't know! Maybe she's home, or- or an older message got sent somehow- I don't know."

Blackstar clears the sleep from his chest. "Okay, okay, well, It could just be a glitch. Let me text her and see if it works. Alright?"

Soul sours. "A glitch?"

"Let's just try." silence falls while Blackstar types. "I'll ask her… when she's getting back. Yeah." He pauses. "Uh."

Soul sits up. "What? What happened?"

"Um, it definitely sent, and she- she read it," Blackstar explains clumsily. "It says she just read it.

He refuses to pull his phone from his face to check for a similar receipt. "Fuck."

"So she has service now, I guess," Blackstar says, then mutters, "that prick."

"I'm dead," Soul says.

"It's probably not as bad as you think."

"Oh god, yes it is." His hands find his hair in anxious grasps. "Star, it totally is."

"Maybe just send her another message? Explaining you didn't mean to?"

"Are you crazy?" Soul shrills. "She's never seen me like this, not this bad. It's- it's humiliating. I can't believe this is actually happening. I'm so fucking stupid."

Sharply, Blackstar says, "Hey. Shut the fuck up, okay?"

Defensive shock rises to his flushed cheeks. "Excuse me?"

"Stop beating yourself up for caring, Soul," Blackstar voices with stern compassion. "It's not cool."

Unbridled surprise and comfort rushes Soul into silence. It soothes the ache of his ribs and guides his heart down from its uphill climb. The sheets and blankets pooled at his feet become soft, and inviting.

He takes in a hitched, sobering breath- and recalls when they'd been fifteen and fourteen, cozied in his parents basement at two in the morning, bumping elbows and stifling shouts as bright-colored Brawlhalla dried their eyes.

Livid yells had echoed through the floor overhead. The voices of his mother and father muffled into an embarrassing, sharp-scaled dragon that disintegrated Soul's blooming feeling of safety.

"Sorry," Soul had mumbled. "This has been happening lately."

"It's fine," Blackstar assured curtly.

Their remotes had stilled in their hands, avatars on the screen shifting rhythmically in the absence of direction. Three lives and intimidating letters hung by health bars and a meaningless, round-counting timer.

Angry footsteps caused Soul to grimace, and Blackstar to glance up at the ceiling quickly.

"It really sucks," Soul blurted in a whispered confession, as his eyes traced the light brown carpet and soda stains.

"Oh." Blackstar said.

Their silence was tense, and awkward, until a gentle hand settled on Soul's upper back.

"I wish I could understand," Blackstar muttered slowly. "This shit is tough. But you're… you. And I know you. And I'm here." He carefully swiped a thumb across Soul's t-shirt. "Is that enough?"

Soul had smiled, and looked at the sincerity in Blackstar's eyes with warm gratitude.

"Of course." he pressed on the plastic, colored buttons to resume their match. "That's always going to be enough."

Soul knows they are built on these defining moments of collision, labored with empathy and tough love. Stubborn arguments that dissolve into mumbled apologies days later, Blackstar's bank of memories he chooses to thumb through when Soul expects it the least, the respectful distance they watch each other's lives from as the years go by.

When gravity shifts them closer, Soul remembers why he chose this life- why he chose this person.

"You're so harsh on yourself, all the time." Blackstar continues through the phone quietly. "It's just hard to listen to."

Soul sniffs, tugging the sheets up over his ankles. "I'm sorry, I… didn't think about that. I've been so-" he sighs shakily. "It's not easy to snap out of it."

"I know."

The tear-tracks on his face grow cold. He wonders if Blackstar remembers the chilled basement and warm banter, like he does. He wonders if he ever recounted the memory to Maka, late at night when they'd spoken of old family ruins and present healing.

Maka.

His breath threatens to quicken again.

"So," Blackstar speaks up, "You did a thing on accident."

"I did." Soul says in a whisper. The acceptance of it is trembling, and terrifying.

"And you said you don't feel ready to talk to Maka about it?"

Soul's sleeve dries his cheeks, and stubbled jaw. The mere thought of glancing at the block of text he'd sent threatens to stream more anxious tears from his recovering eyes. "God, no."

"Then chill, for a bit," Blackstar says. "Right now, in the next five seconds, what can you do?"

Soul swallows, easing the tension squeezing his tongue. His voice is soft, "N-nothing."

"That's okay," Blackstar assures, "Nothing is fine."

"Nothing is fine." Soul repeats.

"Yeah."

"Really." An incredulous tired chuckle bubbles from his chest. "Nothing is fine."

Blackstar huffs. "Yep."

"And I'm an idiot." Soul says.

"And you're an idiot," Blackstar affirms, but Soul can hear his smile.

Faint laughter fills the space of their call, exhausted and genuine. Soul wants to apologize for waking Blackstar, apologize for everything- but their erratic, unexpected contentment on the line keeps him at bay.

His fingers knead the back of his neck as their outburst subsides.

"I really told her everything," Soul says quietly, and relief begins to lift in him. "Is-is it bad that I kind of feel… lighter and heavier at the same time?"

"Dunno," Blackstar says. "I guess you have to meet yourself somewhere, right?"

"Yeah." Soul leans back into his pillows with a heavy exhale. "My brother said you called."

"You talked to him?" Blackstar's voice pitches hopefully.

Soul's heart softens.

"I did," He recounts. "It was nice to hear his voice, he… knows about Maka now." his hands falls to rest on his propped up knee. "And he wasn't surprised either. He said I was being shitty to you, though." He nearly grins. "Not in so many words."

"Yeah, he might be onto something there," Blackstar jokes, but lets out an uneasy huff. "I just wanted to know what was up. Sorry if it felt like I was keeping tabs on you, or something. I-I really tried not to call him."

"It's okay," Soul says with sincerity. "I'm glad you did. Even… even when i couldn't answer it was nice to know you were there, if that makes sense." He pauses, gazing out into the quiet night beyond his window. "Blake… I'm glad that you know me."

"Oh. I'm glad you know me too."

Soul's face breaks into a small smile. "Do i?"

"What does that mean?" Blackstar asks.

Soul chuckles in amusement. "Nothing, just- I can tell when you're keeping stuff from me, that's all."

"Yeah, yeah," Blackstar says quickly. "Stay out of it. When you ditch me for days like this, it takes away your inner-circle rights."

Valid. "I'll work on it, man, I promise."

"Good."

Icy guilt nips at his anxious heart from the underlying strain in Blackstar's tone- nearly faded, hardly there.

Soul's head spins. Have I hurt who I love more than I've hurt myself?

"I don't try to ignore you," He says softly.

Blackstar sighs. "That's why I kept texting."

Silence slips into their phone line. Soul slowly stretches out his taut muscles, and follows the pull that guides him out of his blankets, and to the window.

He slides open the glass, and says, "I haven't been down here in a long time."

Humid air trickles in through the screen. Nevada always smells like plant life and dust after it rains.

"I can tell," Blackstar says, his voice slows. "Y'know It might just be because my brain is still rebooting right now, but… this is how you've always done it, I think. All on the inside." He pauses, letting the words sink between them. "It just makes you miserable."

Soul watches the orange glow from a streetlamp dim. He timidly asks, "What do you think I should do?"

Blackstar falls quiet in what Soul assumes is stunned contemplation. After a moment, he mumbles, "Um… what do you think you should do?"

Soul nearly gives his view of the empty streets an eye-roll, but lets it pass. He sees a stray cat wandering between parked vehicles on the road. A shadowed object hanging from its mouth drops a small, light silhouette that floats down to the asphalt.

"All I know it I can't come back from this," Soul murmurs quietly. The feather begins to tumble idly along the ground as the cat slinks into the night. "This could be it."

"Are you… scared?" Blackstrar asks.

"Oh, always," He says, then settles before carefully moving through his winding thoughts. "But I think I'm starting to feel… like this was inevitable. I don't know. Like no matter what I thought, or said, or did in the past few weeks- it was always going to bring me here." His tone softens, "Even when I first met her, I was supposed to end up here, though I didn't know that for a long time."

"Wow," Blackstar mutters. "That's big."

Soul gently shuts the window. "Yeah. Sometimes, it feels a little too big. You know?"

"I get that," Blackstar says. "Like maybe it's too much."

"What are you supposed to do with that, then?" Soul asks, tugging on the cords to lower his blinds. He mumbles, "I should really buy some curtains."

"Be patient, I guess." Blackstar then adds, "if you get curtains you'll probably feel worse."

Soul frowns. "Why?"

"You need sunlight, you vampire."

"I get more sun than you," Soul retaliate.

"Whatever," Blackstar says. "Just don't block it out."

He sits on the edge of his bed with a snarky reply on his tongue, but falters.

Let's give you something to look forward to, then. Something sunny.

Like you?

"What if I have to?" Soul asks.

"What?"

Soul falls flat on his back, the springs of his mattress carrying the slight bounce to his fluffy hair. "What if she's done, when she says something back- and I have to shut off everything I'm feeling now?"

"Oh- you're talking about- okay. That;s not really blocking it out, Soul. That's letting it go."

Sometimes, it's okay to lose.

Soul's voice grows incredibly small, "I don't want to."

"Really?" Blackstar questions.

Soul's pulse quickens. "What?"

His voice presses on the tendrils in Soul's heart, "Like, not even part of you wants to?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Soul says.

If it was all for nothing- he stares at his ceiling. His days of solitude creep in heavily- maybe I should just tell you everything.

"I'm not trying to go all psycho-freak on you, but can I just… tell you what I think?" Blackstar waits until Soul offers a noise of permission. "You gave yourself an out, Soul."

"An out," he repeats flatly.

"Yeah," Blackstar says, "I know you didn't do it on purpose, or whatever, but some part of you knew sending that would mean it all could be over. Right?"

Soul grits his teeth. It was pasted there before he'd backed down, that much it true.

Maybe I should just fuck everything up.

"What's that- that quote you like? The stupid greek one?" Blackstar asks, and memories of a kinder summer suddenly resurface before them.

His brows furrow as his heart slowly begins to sink with realization. "The one I sent you, like two years ago?"

"Yeah, yeah," Blackstar says. "The one about the throne, and the girl who buried that guy."

His eyes shut.

"You…" Soul's voice slowly softens as he quotes, "You've rushed too far, too fast to the egede of daring. And there, Antigone, you hit upon the throne of justice."

"That," Blackstar says, "That's you."

His eyes open. He can make out the long arms of his ceiling fan in the faint, escaping light. Small reds from his monitors blink into the black air.

Soul mutters, "Okay, Blackstar." his heart pounds. With deep hesitance, his words drop low as he asks,"What's the throne of justice then?"

"Also you, dumbass."

Silence cradles him.

"If it's so big," Blackstar says carefully, "It makes sense you'd try to destroy it."

The implied end to his sentence hands heavy on the tether between them: Before it destroys you.


When the late hours of night turned early for their tired voices, he escaped his dreams. He walked along no Blackroom, he saw no other soul, he merely slept in a void that delivered him great calm when noon rolled around on a fresh day.

He woke up with an intention. To not look at his phone, to clean the laundry and filth he'd been lounging in, and try to pick up the pieces of himself he'd scattered through the empty halls.

He carefully shaved away the days of scruff collected on his jaw, the blades tracing over sturdy bone and leaving softened skin. He'd tilted his head at himself in the mirror, slowly learning to recognize what he saw. His thumb swiped over the bags under his eyes and the dark shape of his brows.

Staring at his empty room and blank computer screen has made its mark, and he's been weary to return to it.

He hovers in his door frame with contemplation, knuckles gently rapping against the white-painted wood, and gazes at his desk. Bright colors sway on his monitor's screen saver animation.

Soul carefully passes over the clean carpet, and lowers himself into his chair. Although he should be bogged by dread and shame after his texting misfortune, his steps have felt easier. His chest can breathe deeper. His hands lost their tremble.

The honeyed edges of truth singe and soothe his tattered heart.

He'd connected with himself, somehow, between the candid night and Blackstar's grounding words. He let the honesty flow through him, instead of spending every waking moment fighting against the current.

He can't undo it. He can't fix it. He has to put himself back together.

Soul clicks his computer into life, and sees a happy invitation waiting for him on Discord.

He scans the abundance of names descending down the list. At any moment in the days prior, he would have been exhausted to even consider hearing a melting pot of laughter, sharp insults and welcoming attitudes.

Yet, he's closer to healing, now, closer to rejoining the world he'd painfully removed himself from- and Maka isn't online.

Soul joins the call.

Warm greetings list the corners of his mouth, and he loads the group's minecraft server with trickling excitement. The image of dark grass blocks and neat oak pathways thanks to Kid returning to his screen ushers and unexpected, homely feeling in the low bearings of his chest. Despite his distance, the loving, virtual community he'd built with friends releases him from absence with open arms.

It feels like hope. It feels like family.

Blair enters his room with curiosity at the sound of Soul's laughter and lounges near him for a long stretch of time.

They build on the server for several hours, playing music and bothering Kid's perfection builds with any chance they get; which includes rearranging a few blocks here and there.

Tsubaki and Liz had expanded the measly treehouse that they created with Soul in haste to escape the night terrors long ago. It had gained levers, not-so-sufficient waterslides and a birdhouse that is named: Blackstar's only friends .

"No no no, that's a stupid name, take that down," Blackstar compains while Soul navigates through the jungle fenced in aviary.

"I think it's fitting," Soul says.

Blackstar scoffs. "If anything, it should be just me. I have friends."

Liz just watches Soul's character dance and feed the parrots surrounding him. ""You really like birds, Soul?"

"Um. I guess."

Soul breaks several blocks of tree leaves aimlessly. He scans the jungle floor for watermelons hidden in the winding vines. A faint sound notifies that someone had joined the channel.

"Hello," A new voice interrupts before Liz can pry more from Soul.

Soul's hands slide off the dark keys, away from the desk and land heavily in his lap.

"Maka!" Tsubaki greets happily.

Maka.

"Hey," Lis says, "Welcome back!"

Maka.

Soul's eyes stare unblinking into the horrid green biome trapped on his dusty screen. The untamed parrot flies off into the depths of the jungle.

"Thank you," Maka responds, her tone amicable, and guarded. Soul can recognize this shade of politeness from half-a-world away. "How are you all doing?"

"Great, we're actually working on the treehouses again,' Tsubaki says. "I think you'll like what we've done with the place."

"Really? That sounds cool."

Soul can hear the disinterest- the cold, calculating patience.

Liz hums. "Yeah, I moved your stuff to the second floor. Hope you don't mind."

"That's alright," Maka dismisses. "I have bigger things to worry about right now."

A voice rings through the call. "Maka, are you going to be joining us on the server?" Kid asks.

No," Maka says. "I'm not here for that."

An unsettling pause tumbles between the rapid banter that's been skipping from voice to voice for hours. The silence drags its agonizing claws across the skin of Soul's chest. He can almost feel the beads of blood drip into his lungs.

Blackstar says nothing.

Soul says nothing.

"Soul," Maka directs, her voice unreadable. "Can I talk to you?"