"This isn't a 'no,' Soul," Maka continues, "It's a 'not yet.'"
Soul's heart courses steady blood through the canyons of his chest, his uneasy stomach, his wrought hands and bending knees. Seated on the carpet of his quiet room, he can see the dust that floats in the light above him, swirls on his beat-up desk, and settles beneath his bed frame.
Not yet. Soul has never heard two words that have warmed him with such bittersweet hope than not yet.
"What is that for you?" He asks Maka. "I don't want to get it wrong."
"Honestly," Maka says, "I'm not really sure."
Bitter, Soul thinks.
"I just know I don't want this to be over," Maka adds quietly.
-Sweet. Of course he'd tumbled over obsessively for such an enigma.
"And you're sure you don't want to… try?" Soul pressed gingelly, a last ditch effort of carefully placed longing.
"I can't," Maka says, "Not now."
Soul can hardly imagine what trying would amount to, with their mercurial friendship and his worrisome dependency. It nearly hurts more, knowing he could have Maka, and still not being able to. It hurts more than his confusion and loss from the previous week.
The strain that'd weigh on their friendship if they swarmed it with long distance affection and endless pining would knock Soul to the ninth circle of hell.
Forgotten fragments of his notes unearth themselves from the soil of his mind, and rise with muddled remembrance. He'd been sitting on the kitchen floor, blinking in and out of sleepless stupor. His thumbs clambered over the keys to Maka. The landline lay on the counter, mindlessly shoved off the hook in prayer of silence.
Blackstar keeps trying to help me, he'd typed, heavy-chested, but you know me, you know me, please help me too.
His words blurred with cold tile and drowsy motions and cartoned milk. I want to know me. I don't think I know me.
Phone slipping from hand, last letters ringing out in clatter against the ground, falling into blackness and the Black room.
How do you know me?
As it resurfaces now, days in the after, he gently adjusts his headphones cozying his ears while the silence of their call carries him to foreign footing.
"I'm going to spend forever rethinking what I'm about to say," Soul slowly treks, eyes searching his walls aimlessly. "But… I don't think I could try, either."
I'm only beginning, he thinks, to really know me.
"That is," Maka voices in gentle shock, "not what I expected at all."
"Yeah, I… clearly have some stuff I need to deal with," Soul continues.
He thinks of the piano practices with his father, as a child.
His words fall to a murmur, "Some things to unlearn."
His brows lifted by traveling thought on his face slowly draw together in contemplation. He's grown tired of the sound of his own voice, how easily it purges everything inside him to Maka. It is terrifying to fall open- to be read, to be seen, to be known.
"Me too," Maka says. "I feel like…. Like I don't have the right words to explain it, but seeing my grandparents gave me a lot to think about."
Soul shifts where he's seated on the un-vacuumed carpet as he considers how to approach the opening that has been set before them.
Between purple farm mornings and afternoon rain, did Maka feel fear?
I felt safe in missing you.
Soul asks softly, "How are they?"
"They're happy," Maka recounts lightly. "They seem really happy, and- ready. They've always had each other, so they don't really care about much else, now." Her voice shifts into absent wandering, "Can you imagine that, Soul? That kind of love?"
Seated under a wooden overhang, rocking in dark-oak cairns, pourched and content and passing quiet glances of solidarity. Extending an aged hand to grasp his partner's fingers with warmth in combat of the chill air- feeling like this is all he's ever wanted, where he was bound to be.
Soul's eyes well slightly, and he cannot answer.
Maka exhales.
"I just… just wonder if holding onto the possibility is a good thing, or not," Soul says. They both know the pain of clinging to that which is meant to leave them.
"Yeah," Maka mutters, "I'm wondering about that, too."
Soul stretches out his legs, foot nudging the edge of his bed. "We could talk through it, though. Figure it out."
"Alright," Maka says stiffly. She clears her throat. "I don't think I've ever had a conversation like this before."
Soul huffs. "Me either."
They've talked about better; they've not talked about worse.
"So we could settle on this, like, in between or- or a compromise, if that's a good way to refer to it," Maka begins with quick unease.
Soul nods to himself, leaning back on his hands. Not yet. "Which would mean…?"
"Going back to how it was before," Maka offers, slowing herself down. "Figuring it out as we go, or until we feel it's right to revisit it."
A sharp breath stings Soul's lungs, blunt with acceptance. "What, pretend like this never happened?"
"Not necessarily. It did happen, I'm not trying to hide from that."
"Okay," Soul says. He blows out a steady breath. "A compromise."
"Yeha. It's the only other idea I have so far," Maka mutters.
Soul frowns. "What… What's the other one?" He's greeted with steep silence. "Maka?"
"We stop," Maka says quietly. "Like really, really stop."
Soul's fingers curl into the fuzzy carpet, nails scraping the floor.
Almost inaudible, Maka adds, "I know I can't get over you if we keep talking every day. It'd be too much."
"No," he bares. "Not that." His chest aches as the fear rattles through him. Please. "Please, not that."
He wants to say, I don't want you to get over me.
He wants to say, "I can lose whatever the fuck this is now, but I cannot lose you."
His eyes widen as the words leave his lips.
The thread of commonality between the two painful paths settle on Soul's shoulders: he can't make Maka happier, not in this moment. He wants more than anything to be the right person for her, to be the place of comfort and trust that they both need- but he isn't there yet.
"I don't want to go anywhere," Maka's voice falls to whisper. "I promise."
"Then don't," Soul pleads.
He hears Maka clear the tension from her throat. "Maybe. Maybe it's going to be okay, I want it to be okay. But I just have to- we have to…"
Soul's eyes shut. Softly, he says, "Give it time."
"Are you… is that…" The fear in Maka's words pushes him to unfinished silence.
Soul knows what she's trying to ask.
He draws in a deep inhale that expands in his chest, air rushing to fill every centimeter of vacant space beneath his rising ribs. The oxygen is clear and pure, enriching his blood, gently sweeping away the ash leftover in hsi charred brain.
He breathes in the golden hope that he's been given. He breathes in the contentment of knowing that Maka is waiting on the end of his line, across the immovable US, with a patience that is hardly deserved. Maka may always be waiting, and Soul knows that no matter what, he'll wait too.
"I think," He says finally, "I'm okay with that."
"...You are?" Maka asks with breathless relief.
It warms in Soul's chest that he can hear it now; that she understands why it's there.
"I am," he answers with a gentleness he's never known his voice to possess. "It's not going to be easy. I know that much." He exhales slowly. "I brought it on you too fast- i get that too."
"I wouldn't expect anything else from you," Maka says warmly.
Soul smiles. "It almost sounds like you're hitting on me."
"Do you want me to be?" Maka teases with knowing mirth.
"Oh, god." Soul laughs. "I definitely, definitely do."
The giggler that leaves Maka's lips is carefree and sunny, and grounds Soul in his growing contentment. It's astonishing how easy it feels to elicit this light from her.
"We're pathetic." Maka says.
Soul gives her an airy sigh. "Only a little bit." After a moment, he pulls his knees towards his chest, and rises from the ground with slow grace. "You know, I… I meant it when I said I'd be here for you, Maka. That I'd stick around. Even if that means that I have to- to…" His back aches as he straightens his spine, eyes meeting the yellow rays from his window. "To let go."
He remembers when he'd brought home Blair for the first time, and spent hours explaining to his family the meticulous schedule with which he intended to care for her. He'd rattled on about proper food brands, meal times, training techniques and kittens boundaries that cluttered his browser history for months before the adoption.
His warm hands had trembled slightly when he cupped her small, mewling body against his chest for the first time.
"Soul," His mother has said kindly, "I know you know how to do this. You'll be fine."
"I know how, but what is she just-" He glanced down at Blair's squinting eyes. "Isn't happy, or I don't do it right, or she doesn't like it here and runs away-"
"Don't be so nervous," His older brother drawled lightly, peering at the bundle of fur in his hands with curiosity. "She won't run away. And if she does, you can just wait for her to come back." He lightly scratched the top of Blair's head. "Cause if you love her enough, she'll always know where home is."
He'd rolled his eyes and scoffed then, his younger self burdened by the lack of trust and patience needed to nurture such a valuable connection.
Soul hopes the mic on his headset picks up every last ounce of his integrity as he says, "I can let go."
"Are you sure?" Maka pushes hesitantly. "I don't want you to just say that for my sake."
He moves to slowly push his computer chair back to the desk. "I'm done lying to you." It feels strange to commit himself to a future of subtle pain, while simultaneously being released from the past. "I'm sure."
"Okay," Maka breathes, and the gratitude in her voice is enough to assure Soul he's chosen the right path. Through the maze of fire and flames, he'd found the right person- the right center.
He hopes it rains again soon.
"So what does this mean, moving forward?" Soul asks, absently making his way towards his bedroom door.
"I'm still working on that."
Soul reached for the handle, and hesitated with a palm on the cool metal. "You don't have to figure it out on your own." he says, pulling it open. "I haven't been the most selfless person lately and I know I can't make up for that… but I want you to know i'm going to hear you, and see you." He moves through the threshold and into the hall. "Whatever you want, I'll do it. Okay?"
"Thank you, Soul." Maka says quietly. "You know… It's kind of scary, how huge your heart is."
Soul's eyes pass over the entrance to the spare bedroom across the hall from his. He murmurs, "isn't that the point?"
In Maka's silence, Soul quietly tugs on his door until the metal latch slides into place.
"This is all still very fresh for me," Maka says slowly. "All I know, right now, is that I'm going to need some space. To sort this out. It's a lot for me to take on at once and- and you know me. I have to-"
"Re-weight your expectations, yeah." Soul leans against his door with a hand behind his back. "What does space mean to you, exactly?"
Maka retreats into noiselessness again.
Soul's heart pangs. He keeps his voice low to hide any strain. "Do you want me to stop talking to you?"
After a tense pause that nearly knocks out Soul's knees, Maka says, "No."
"Thank god," Soul breathes.
"But," maka inputs quickly to snatch Soul's wandering emotions, "We shouldn't keep talking like we have been. That's just not going to get us anywhere."
Soul tsks. "Like what?"
"Like the calls. And the snapchats." After a moment, Maka adds, "And your stupid mouth."
"Says you," Soul mumbles.
"Stop."
Soul tips the back of his head against the door, letting the urge to smile pass him by as he calculates the weight of their decisions. "Okay, so we- we- can I just talk through this for a second?"
"Of course," Maka says with her usual patience, except now, the fondness is more evident that Soul has known before.
His feels his cheeks flush. "Right. So the calls and stuff have to stop, but we can still be in group channels?" Maka hums in approval. "So I can still talk to you everyday, but maybe just not- not so-" He reaches for the right word. "Forward."
"You have to work on what you say." Maka agrees.
"What about what you say?" Soul counters. "And what you screenshot?"
"Okay, okay fine." Maka rushes with tinged embarrassment. "That's a good point. I'll be mindful, too." Her voice slips into faint irritability. "Maybe you should stay out of my camera streams, until you know you can be normal."
Soul winces. "Got it." His pause of shame slowly morphs into unchecked nerves. "What about the rest of the group?" They'll know somethings up if we start acting differently."
"Hey," Maka interrupts gently, "It's just a break, okay? If they get too much, then we'll… we'll cross that bridge when we get it to."
Intense calm washes over him. "We'll cross it when we get to it," He repeats, leaning off the door. He silently glides in his socks down his hall.
"We will."
"Okay." Soul slowly makes his way towards the descending stairs, glancing up at the skylight as he passes underneath. "They kind of notice everything, though. You don't even want to know what the group chat was like since you left."
He'd hardly kept up with the questions and comments made by their friends himself, knowing it would only bring him to the very place he was trying to avoid.
"I was on earlier," Maka says. "Didn't think my absence would be such a big deal. At some point they were convinced you had run away with me?"
Soul begins to travel down from the top of the stairs, each joly of a step jostling through his body, "That-" would be nice, "Is just dumb."
If he were a main character, of sorts, he would have bought that plane ticket and drove on the wrong side of the road all night just to reach Maka. To leap and bound across the damp- fielded farm, hollering at her to come downstairs, and meet her by the porch with linking hands and close noses and warm pleas of, run with me, run with me, run with me.
Yet, he's alone in his empty house in the mourning of June passed, ears full of rejection from the best friend he's spoken to every day for years. They're meant to meet someday, at a crowded baggage claim or carpool line- and Soul knows he'll be no hero. He's only human.
Sudden realization and fear rush through him, and he stops at the bottom stair. "Maka."
"Yes?"
A nervous hand rises to cup the side of his neck. "... what about your visit?"
The silent pause over the phone is labored with consideration, and lamentation. Soul eyes the sliding door he'd pressed his palm against, subtly mourning the excitement he'd held when Maka said she wanted to see a Nevadan storm for herself.
Soul wants to hope and beg for Maka to stay true, to set food on that plane; to come here.
"I really do want to see you, and I have for a long time," Soul says. "But if it's going to be too soon… you don't have to come." He feels his stomach flip at his own betrayal, brows pinching together in deep pain. "Nevada will always be here when you're ready."
"It's… it's really a lot to think about," Maka admits. "I know it's shitty for me to just keep saying that I don't know, that I need time- but that's all I have, Soul."
Soul's eyes close briefly.
"God, I just-" Maka inhales sharply. "I just feel like crap, and I don't- I don't mean to make any of this worse for you, I can see that it's been so hard already and you've never written anything like that before." Her voice picks up in urgency as she continues to ramble, "I've never wanted to be that, for you. You know? I've never wanted to be the- the person, the thing that hurts you, that type of ghost-"
"Maka."
"I want to go, I really do," She says with strain. "I know past me would kick myself if I don't go, and Blackstar will be there too, kind of like normal. But I'm just so confused, I've been so fucking confused and I'm-"
"It's okay." Soul assures desperately, stepping off the stairs. "I'm confused too. I brought up the trip to see where we're at- but I think it might be too soon to talk about it. So slow down, catch your breath. It's okay."
He waits as Maka begins to breathe rhythmically. After a shaky exhale, Maka asks, "Is it alright if we don't make any big decisions yet?"
"I… can learn to be alright with that." Soul makes his way towards the living room, body coursing with pointless motion. "God, poor Blackstar, though. What are we gonna do about him?"
"I don't know if he'd want to be in the middle of this more than he already is," Maka mumbles.
"I talked to him last night, for a while." Soul says, and frowns at his feet. "Fuck, I really need to vacuum in here. Sorry- just thinking out loud."
"It's fine." Maka nearly sounds relieved at the distraction. "In where?"
"My living room," Soul eyes the layer of cat hair on the carpet, stepping disdainfully towards the couch. "Blair is tiny. I don't know how she sheds this much."
Maka hums. "Do you brush her?"
"Of course I brush her." Soul says defensively. "What kind of shit owner do you take me for?"
"I literally cannot picture you holding a cat brush. Or a hair comb, for that matter."
Soul scoffs, flopping to sit on the cushions. "That's incredibly insulting."
"My bad," Maka says, yet she doesn't sound apologetic at all. "Sometimes it's just difficult to believe you're real, and all."
Soul idly pats his sweats to search for his phone. "What, do I need to send picture proof?"
"Um."
Soul sits up quickly. "Wait. I didn't mean to- that's not-"
"Oh. It's-" Maka stumbles. "Fine. Me neither. Forget about it."
"Right."
They fall into tense silence.
"So," Maka says, "Blackstar. Maybe we should talk to him in a bit. I can't imagine he's feeling all that great right about now."
Soul wonders, faintly, how it must look on Blackstar's end- staring at the locked voice channel with his and Maka's names inside fearfully for all this time. "That could be a good idea. He's probably concerned about the trip too."
It squeezes in his chest as he considers the days of loud, dynamic fun the three of them may not get to experience anymore. He almost feels selfish for ripping the opportunity from Maka and Blackstar to see each other, knowing they've been looking forward to it for years as he has.
"I really want to meet you." Maka says unexpectedly, her tone soft.
Soul's heart stutters. "I want to meet you too."
He sinks back into the sofa with quiet calm.
"I think about when you described the rain to me, all the time." Maka says, then falls silent. Soul lets her pause, before she adds, "And I really loved talking to you late at night."
"I think I loved it a little too much." Soul says, winded.
Maka laughs gently. "Maybe."
Soul ducks his head, glancing down with a small smile. As the moment fades, he studies his sweats and picks off pieces of lint collected in the gray thread.
"Maka," He begins slowly. "Do you… ever feel like you're not who you're supposed to be, yet?" He rolls the ball of lint between his thumb and forefinger absently. "Like you're almost there," he says, "You can see it, but you can't become it."
"It's frustrating," Maka agrees in a whisper, "Because you feel like if you want it enough, it should be here by now."
Soul's head slowly lifts. "Yeah."
"Yeah."
The large television mounted on the wall before him hangs blank, and gray, yet beneath the dusty screen is a world of colorful potential. With the correct remote, the most genuine intention, the images and music and life could become whatever he wants it to be.
"I think," Soul says, "We're not right for this yet."
"Not right," Maka repeats, testing the words softly.
"Not yet."
He remembers sitting here after the short documentary left on the screen, forcing himself to accept the first pieces of truth that altered the course of his heart for good. In the brief span of time since then, he feels he's aged so much- and feels he's not aged at all.
"You're the best person I've ever had in my life," Soul confesses. "But you've changed me."
Maka hesitated, and asked thoughtfully. "Is that a good or bad thing?"
"Neither. Both." Soul's voice falls to a low rumble as he contemplates, "I needed change- that's all I know."
"I think it's okay to not have answers." Maka whispers.
His eyes squeeze shut. I'm going to miss this, so so much.
"This is gonna hurt." Soul admits.
Softly, Maka says, "It already does."
Soul's everything aches-n his heart, his head, his soul. He wants to cry again, but cannot let his private tears disrupt the moment with Maka that is fleeting between them.
As if she can sense Soul's wilting stature, Maka murmurs, "I'm sorry for doing this to you."
Soul inhales, and exhales. "I know. I'm sorry too."
Learning to be grateful that this is where they chose to end up will be difficult, he knows. But it's all they're going to have. Patience, he thinks, is going to suck.
Their conversation dips into lighter tones, discussing Maka's scenic drive to the country side and her days in the quiet cottage. She tells Soul of a frustrated night where she'd spent at the kitchen table, scrutinizing over her childhood toys her grandparents had kept over the years.
Soul chuckles.
Their spoken connection strengthens near the end of recounting their previous days, while their unspoken dances in Soul's mind with curiosity and anxious rage. He wants to bring up the Blackroom, but doesn't. Maka's words stumble when she mentions sleeping and dreams, as if she has a confession to give, but backs away.
Eventually Soul has wandered back into his room, his door ajar and window wafting in the warm, outside breeze. He tells Maka his air conditioning is fixed, and absently rambles on the curse that is Nevada weather.
"I'm definitely not going to live here forever," Soul says, briefly replacing the charge in his headset in time to hear Maka's response.
"-where would you want to go?"
He sets the old battery pack on his nightstand. "Somewhere north, maybe. Not sure how I'd deal with the cold."
Maka laughs. "Doesn't Blackstar get shitty winters, though?"
"Probably," Soul says, "He complains about it so much it all just gets mixed up in my head."
They muse with entertainment over the common ground they share, and it almost feels like normal. Almost, until Maka's tone suddenly shifts into timidness again.
"Maybe," She says suddenly, "Maybe we should get Blackstar in here now. Just to see."
Soul rises off his bed, frowning in confusion. "To see about the trip?"
"Sort of." Maka clears her throat, "I should catch him up on some things."
Soul bites back a cheeky response. "Alright," He slumps into his gaming chair, wiggling the mouse until the sleeping screen lights up again with Discord still in view. "I'm not sure if anyone is on the minecraft server anymore, but it looks like they're still in call."
"Hm." Maka's keyboard clicks away in his ears.
Seconds later, a small red notification appears in Soul's direct messages. He opens it.
Blackstar had sent: Maka just told me to join the call but there is no way I'm doing that.
"I don't want to keep the channel unlocked for too long," Maka mutters.
Soul rolls his eyes and types back: It's important. Don't be a pussy. "He's coming."
"Wonderful," Maka says, her voice falling unexpectedly flat.
After another moment, Soul messages Blackstar: Come on.
A small ping bounces through the call. With extreme timidness, Blackstar greets. "Hey guys."
"Blake," Maka says immediately.
"Oh god." Blackstar breathes.
"Soul could you deafen for a moment?"
Soul's eyebrows raise at the sharpness of Maka's words. "Um, sure." he drags his cursor over to disable the calls audio on his end.
As he clicks he hears Maka's voice explode, "I specifically told you not to tell-"
It cuts off, and Soul can't help but smile. He takes the time in silence to lean back in his chair and turn over the events of their long, long conversation in his mind. The swaying pendulum of emotions he'd experienced, rocking to a fro, comforts him as much as it tears him apart.
He knows he made mistakes. He knows he's apologizing. All that's left for him to do is wait, and learn, and hope. He wonders how he can become a better person, in the departure from all of his ruin. He could speak softer, listen more- he could seek counsel from someone who could explain his attachment to the past, the beach, his perception of love.
He scans his desk for a post-it and pen, then scribbles down a quick reminder to himself. Call .
Sheer curiosity rises in him as his eyes flit over the call he's unable to hear. He glances away with innocence and blindly clicks to listen in.
"-sort of what you meant? Like that thing we talked about when he-"
"Oh yeah," Blackstar says. "That makes sense- wait. Is he-"
At the same time, both Blackstar and Maka scold, "Not now, Soul!"
He rapidly deafens again with a smile.
A new message from Maka pops up on his computer a few minutes later. He clicks on it.
Ok, NOW u can come back, it reads.
He takes in a shallow breath, suppressing his amusement and nerves as he reconnects and unmutes.
Immediately, Blackstar yells, "you told her what I told you?"
"Shut up," Maka says, exasperated.
"What else did you expect me to do with that information?" Soul asks in quick defense.
Blackstar makes a frustrated noise. "I don't know, keep it to yourself? Are you insane?"
"Dude, what do you thin was on that text?" He questions, irritation mingling with a smile.
"Okay, well, not you fucking snitching, for one-"
"Blackstar. What did we just talk about," Maka voices tiredly.
Soul fights the urge to laugh at their ridiculous approach to such a private, sensitive topic that he'd cried and panicked over the night before. He's reminded, fondly, of their immaturity- their youth.
"Okay," Blackstar grumbles. "Whatever. You guys just put me in a really weird place, back to back. And I mean a really, really weird place." He pauses sharply. "Not Like I want you guys shutting me out or not talking to me, cause that also sucks, but . Please don't do that again."
Soul winces at the guilt that floors through him. "That's…. Actually what we should talk about," He says. "The trip and all."
"Shit. Yeah."
"We're not trying to jump to any big changes," Soul explains slowly. "Just sort of feeling out how we're all doing with this, right now."
Blackstar hums contemplatively.
"Are you okay with discussing it?"
"Yes, Maks," Blackstar says, overly-polite. "Thank you for asking."
Soul bites back his tongue, censored by the knowledge of when his friend's snarky attitude comes from a place of tension and worry.
"Are you still going?" Blackstar asks, tone softer.
"I don't know," Maka answers, at the same time Soul mutters, "She doesn't know."
An awkward silence slams into their call.
"Oh," Blackstar says, then after a moment he adds, "Oh. Gotcha. Seriously?" He clears his throat. "Well, I'm still going." The tense silence continues, until he muses, "And I don't know about you, Soul, but I kinda wanna meet Maka in person, so-"
Soul groans. "Take this seriously."
"I am, I am," He assures light-heartedly. "I know…I know this means a lot to you guys. It means a lot to me too. In person stuff matters, I get that." he pauses. "But it's not like we're meeting up tomorrow. We have time."
"That is true." Maka says quietly.
Soul's pulse begins to quicken under his ribs. His eyes scrap the ceiling in hurried ignorance.
Blackstar sighs. "I wanna hangout, all three of us. If that's not going to be possible, then okay- but I'd be bummed."
Soul parts his lips to reply, but Maka beats him to it and leaves a blunt surprise.
"You'd still want to visit?" She asks.
Blackstar's answer is fast, "Of course. At this point there's no reason to avoid it."
Carefully, Maka continues, "...Soul?"
He steadies the nervous racing of his untamed heart. He rubs his chest in an attempt to help soothe it away, softly saying, "Of course."
His eyes catch another direct-message from Blackstar.
It says: Maka yelling is always so scary I hate you.
Soul smiles. Blackstar's presence alone wraps a blanket of warmth around their shoulders, bringing comfort and clarity that they've all been lacking in recent weeks. Normally, he himself is the peacekeeper, the middle ground of temperance. Yet, Blackstar's kind heart and patience oozes honey into the cracks of their foundation, with promise of forever.
There's something to be said, he thinks, about all the different ways the ancient Greeks fell in love.
"I think it's going to be fine, Maka." Soul murmurs, as he begins to type back. "Like I said- I can learn to be okay."
He sends to Blackstar, Tell me about it.
He feels unexpected relief that from here on out, he won't have to hide himself anymore- and can place that energy into being the person he should be; the friend Maka needs. He can picture the three of them lounging in his living room for late-night movie marathons, or strolling through the vast Nevadan malls with bags of ridiculous purchases.
All they've ever wanted, for years, is to spend time in a place where they can truly act like family.
Soul knows that even if Maka doesn't see the possibility now, she'll visit Nevada eventually- when the shifting starts and turning months linking their three, convergent lives finally fall into place.
"Okay," Maka finally says. "I'll think about it."
