Soul didn't bother to crawl into bed until 1 AM. The pull of sleep was still entirely absent, and his brain would only offer more gears to turn.

I cried.

In front of her.

He lifted his hand like he would see something other than his own fingers.

She didn't say a thing about it.

Just held my hand.

A slow, unsteady breath fluttered through his lips.

I couldn't say a word about Remy or Layla. Viv or Wes.

But I didn't have to– it's like she knew.

She said just what I needed to hear.

He reached out to the bedside table, opening his contacts and scrolling. If it was anyone else, he'd expect the voicemail, but he knew the time wasn't going to be the problem.

"Yo," Blake cooed out the vowel. "Are you seriously up? You're not just sleep dialing me, right?"

"I'm up," he muttered.

"Aw, but you sound like a fuckin' downer. What the hell's your problem?"

Soul pressed his hand to his chest, holding his heart in place. "Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Shoot."

Is she real?

Is she a fucking mindreader?

Why would she even bother bein' the way she is with me?

"Uh, shoot means ask," Blake reminded him brusquely.

He sighed. "Listen, I-I'm not in the mood for bullshittin' so if I ask you–"

"I refuse to sign some kinda verbal waver that I can't tease the shit out of you for what you're about to ask," he returned blandly. "But in my infinite mercy, I will allow you a week before I start bringing it up."

Soul weighed his options before he sucked in a breath. "With Maka–"

Blake already started to cackle.

"Asshole, you said a fuckin' week," he hissed.

"A week before I brought up whatever this lame-ass question is going to be," Blake repeated. "I said nothing about laughing."

He grumbled, turning over on his side as he once again tried to deliberate.

"So with Maka…" Blake prompted through more chuckles.

I'm not even fucking sure if I know what I'm askin'– what I want him to tell me. I just need someone to tell me it wasn't a dream. "She's just sorta… good with people, isn't she?"

"Uh, yeah… duh." Blake snorted on the other side of the line. "But you calling me at 1 AM to verify that is totally sus."

Soul groaned. Again, I don't fucking know! I don't know what I want you to say!

"If it helps"—Blake's voice rang like a cat with a belly full of feathers—"she's usually super cold with guys. No touching, no nothing. Her dad's a piece of work so maybe she's mentioned once or twice that she just defaults to not trusting them."

Hence that little outburst in the doctor's office… Soul tried to catch that thought, keeping it in a stranglehold.

"So if she was actually nice, maybe throwing in a touch here and there, I'd be fucking floored." He started to cackle again. "I'm not calling her a bitch, but she can be a bitch, you know?"

"She's not a bitch," Soul grumbled.

"Cute that you'll stick up for your girlfriend like that–"

"She's not." He heard the petulance almost instantly, worse than anything his students usually dished out. "Fuck."

That did nothing but feed the rumbling on the other side of the phone, Blake practically gasping for air to replace his brays. "Okay, okay, okay, seriously though. One piece of advice: you don't need anyone but her fucking permission to date, you get me?"

Soul gulped for air– for hope– for salvation.

"Because that's what you're finally thinking, right?" Blake was always pushy, but this at least settled closer to encouragement. "That you could maybe do something for you for once?"

The idea brought a bitter sting to the back of his throat. Somethin' for me. "I don't know."

A puff of exasperation filled the other end of the line. "Think about it, but don't call me at 1 AM again unless you wanna drink."


Maka was used to exhaustedly shuffling out of Dr. Yumi's office, but something about the last little bit brought a breath of life back to her. I admitted it. I like him. She rolled her eyes just before the corner of the hallway. Okay, yes, it sounds childish but I'm allowed, right? It's been so long since I've even thought about this– that it's okay to feel however I feel and– She stopped short, seeing Layla's sweet smile waiting for her. "Layla?"

"Hi, Maka!" She waved her over quickly.

"Is everything alright?" Maka checked her watch– their appointments did overlap, but it was always the other way around, Layla's before Maka's. "Where's Soul?"

Layla was entirely unaffected by Maka's momentary panic, just shrugging her shoulders with the same casual air as Soul. "Papa needed to talk to Dr. Marie."

Maka hesitated before shifting towards the couch and planting herself next to the girl. "Do you mind if I wait with you?"

"You don't have to," Layla offered graciously. "Auntie behind the counter always watches me, so…"

She shook her head. "I don't have anywhere to be, and this will give us a chance to catch up."

That brought the bloom of Layla's entire smile.


Soul had taken a seat this time, his dampening palms rubbing into his kneecaps. "I had a fight with her Uncle Remy."

Marie nodded, leaving him space he didn't necessarily want.

"And I–" His voice broke with a raspy breath. "I might… I want…" He dropped his head into his hands, giving it a weighty shake.

"Soul, relax." There was no confusion as to why she was a therapist, that unbelievable warmth and gentleness seeping from her voice. "One thing at a time. You fought with Remy. Layla already spoke to me about it."

He popped his chin up immediately, glossy eyes wide in disbelief. "She heard that?"

"She said she heard the sounds of an argument, not the argument itself," Marie placated. "Layla is very aware that the two of you don't get along. We've discussed that she can't control your relationship."

Soul heaved a sigh. "Oh, fuckin'–"

"Stop," Marie cautioned. "Again, let's focus on Layla working through what bothers her. Just because it does doesn't mean you have to change it. Your relationship with Remy is your own– it's not for Layla to dictate." She smoothed her hands over the pad on her desk, intertwining her fingers. "Now, what might you do?"

He brought desperate eyes to her, begging for permission– absolution– just about anything he could get. "I've been thinking about… if it's possible for me to see someone."

"See?" She offered back hesitantly. "What does that mean?"

"Date." That word carried Goliath weight, crashing off his tongue with a horrifying rattle that struck to his bones.

Marie's smile brightened. "Why wouldn't that be possible?"

A warbled sigh—half a groan—trembled in his chest. "I just… it's been me and Layla for so long, and I…" His hands groped for the idea but came up with nothing but air.

"Am allowed to have a life," Marie finished succinctly.

Soul floundered, head and heart barely hanging on in the hurricane of that thought. I'm not even sure I know what that is. My life?


Maka was deeply embedded in Layla's chatter, experiencing each word and thought with just as much joy as was leaking off the girl's face. Instantly the light changed direction, Layla jumping to her feet and rushing towards the entrance to the hallway. "Oh, Papa!"

It was only a little heartbreaking– the way he looked disheveled, tired, and still with a grey cloud lingering over his head. Soul let Layla run into him, flopping a hand to her head. "See you had company." He lifted his eyes, offering Maka at least the hint of a smile. "Thanks for waitin' with her."

"Any time. Do you– if you need me to–"

"Actually, can Layla sit with you one more minute? I gotta talk to the receptionist." Layla looked up at him quizzically. "Just a minute," he reassured her again before she disengaged, moving back towards Maka with a skeptical wrinkle to her brow.

"Papa never talks to the receptionist," Layla grumbled as she sat back next to Maka.

"It's probably nothing…" Maka tried to console, gluing her attention to Layla to leave Soul to his business. I wonder if he's alright. It's not like he seemed any better after we talked, but at least he cried. Sometimes I wonder just how much he holds in. She looked up just in time to catch him turning, another vague bit of a smile on his face.

"Alright, bug, let's go."

Layla absorbed the order, but as she got to her feet, she paused for Maka. "Are you going too?"

"Yup." Maka stood and Layla instantly grabbed her hand, starting to pull her towards the door.

Soul didn't make much of a move beside ambling behind, leaving Layla to continue to chirp about more of her life. "This weekend I decided I wanted to stay home with Papa. I'm not going to the twins or Grandpa Julien's."

They started down the stairwell, giving Maka the opportunity to glance back at him. Soul was half-listening, his mind zoning to somewhere else while his stare followed his shoes. "Any particular reason?"

Layla shrugged. "Well, Grandmama and Pop might come back this weekend, so if Papa gets summoned it's better if I'm there."

A rough snicker shot behind them, followed by Soul's low rumble: "My parents. They're sorta… an acquired taste."

Well, when you describe it as being summoned Maka held on to the sour note in that laugh but kept her attention on Layla. "Is that where you were last weekend?"

Layla shook her head. "With Uncle Remy and Grandpa Julien. I mean, Grandma Flora, too, but…" She offered a glance back at her father for guidance.

Soul slid in with a gentle whisper: "Flora's got Alzheimer's."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Maka murmured.

"It's okay," Layla quickly replied. They hit the parking lot, Layla slow to release Maka's hand as she stopped in front of the familiar Toyota. "Thank you for staying with me."

"Any time, really." Maka squeezed those little fingers in hers.

"Layla, can you give me a minute with Maka?" Soul's voice was even, quiet, and was almost overcome by the sounds of the rest of the world. Next was the click of the locks, and Layla's hand dutifully slipped from hers.

"Good bye, Maka."

"Bye…" Maka held her breath, waiting for Layla to disappear into the safety of the car. Some nebulous tension rested between them, and Maka wasn't sure she wanted to put her finger on it yet. Nevertheless, the woman whose bravery had waned over the years gathered it up once more. "Is everything okay?"

Soul nodded, turning his back to the car in some effort to keep his whispers for Maka's ears only. "Sorta just wanted to say thanks. The other night was… well, it wasn't the norm for me, I guess, and I wasn't exactly expectin' it to play out the way it did."

"It's not a big deal," Maka murmured.

"Actually, it sorta is," Soul replied as he ran his fingers through his hair to pull it back from his forehead. "I'm glad you said what you did. It got me thinkin' and… I made an appointment." He vaguely gestured back towards the building. "So thanks. I needed that and… I'm glad it was you– I mean, glad you were there."

The warmth of that ached down to her bones, along with the subtle smile that was taking hold on his face. "Just good timing, but if you ever need to talk again, other than with the doctor…"

"Yeah, thanks." His whisper trembled before he cleared his throat. "And if you– same goes for you, okay?"

"Thank you."

Soul shuffled for a moment, mouth gaping but popping shut again. "So, I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Well, if you need me." Maka couldn't help but laugh lightly.

A little pink came to his cheeks. "Well, yeah, not like we see each other every day," he muttered as his hand clamped to the back of his neck. He took a half-step back, angling towards the car. "Take care and I'll see you."

"Soon," Maka added.

He took one more step before he repeated it for the pavement: "Soon."