Welcome back to another installment of Marks on My Heart! As always I want to thank everyone for their support for my story. Every comment, kudos, bookmark, and subscription really makes my day. ^_^

If you've been with us since the beginning, or if you're just joining us now, you should be aware that this is a critical point in the story. As such, I feel I must give a warning.

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter includes feelings of loss, anxiety, and intense emotional pain. If any of this could be triggering for you, please beware, and keep yourself safe. This story WILL have a happy ending, and what happens in this story is part of getting there.

Chapter 14: Trembling Heart

There was something comforting in the rhythmic crunch of green onion under the blade of his kitchen knife, and the way it kept time with Katsuki's knife work just beside him.

Katsuki nudged Shouto's shoulder, breaking his rhythm. "Stop copying me, Icy Hot."

"I'm sorry; I thought you were the one insisting I learn to make something other than cold soba. And I not supposed to emulate my teacher?"

"Tch. I wouldn't be so fucking slow except for these." Katsuki gestured with the weighted bracelets that circled his wrists. Today was Katsuki's first day wearing weights on his wrists and ankles, part of the endurance training in his pro hero physical therapy. Eventually, he'd be asked to wear a weighted vest to strengthen his back, shoulder, and core muscles. He'd need that extra strength to support the modified armor of his hero uniform.

"They can take a little getting used to," Shouto agreed

Katsuki made a face like he'd just sucked on a lemon. "I've worn fucking weights before. Something's different this time. He adjusted, then readjusted the strap. "It feels like something sharp keeps poking me, but every time I check the fabric it looks fine."

"Maybe it's your wrist," Shouto suggested. "Did you get any mosquito bites on the lake yesterday?"

Katsuki huffed and went back to his aggressive chopping. "They were all after fucking Deku, not me."

"Type O is supposed to be their favorite," Shouto allowed, but type A is second."

"Then where are your fucking mosquito bites, Icy Hot?"

Shouto exhaled a slow puff of frost and watched with amusement as goosebumps rippled across Katsuki's neck. "Mosquito's don't like the cold."

"Fuck you, that's cheating."

Shouto allowed a low chuckle to rumble in his chest. He felt good today. Right now, he was fully present in the moment. He couldn't figure out if it was because he'd slept so well, or if he'd just exhausted his bodys' stress hormones. Whatever the reason, and however short this reprieve was, he was grateful. "How's the Miso?"

Katsuki lifted the cutting board and dumped their small pile of green onion cuttings into the pot. He leaned over the steaming liquid and breathed deeply as he stirred the ladle. Katsuki used a regular spoon to steal some of the broth and bring it to his lips. Puffs of steam escaped his mouth when he said, "It's ready." Katsuki lifted his head and craned his neck in the direction of the hallway. "Deku! Come get food!"

Shouto expected to hear a faint and slightly scolding, 'Kacchan!' but the only answer to Katsuki's summons was silence.

"Deku's still here right?"

Shouto nodded. "I saw him in the spare room before I came in here for tea. He had his laptop open and he was making notes, so I didn't want to bother him."

Katsuki's lips pinched together in a disappointed expression. "I'm surprised we can't hear him muttering from here."

Izuku's muttering was a fairly common occurrence, but Katsuki's annoyance was usually tempered with affection. Shouto had seen that even before they'd left UA. Now, he only saw concern. "What's wrong?"

"Deku wasn't in bed when I got up this morning." Katsuki set the empty bowls he'd just pulled from the cabinet down on the counter and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Are you worried that he never went to bed?"

Katsuki rubbed his palm across his face with enough force to raise a tinge of color across his skin. "I'm worried he's overworking himself because he feels guilty for taking time away." Soft, sad crimson eyes found Shouto's face. "He gets almost manic with work sometimes and it's going to affect his health one of these days." Katsuki pulled his arms even tighter around his chest. "I get the drive to be the best, we're still technically in competition with each other as Pro Heroes, but you can't be the best if you're not taking care of yourself."

Shouto curled his hand around on of Katsuki's tense forearms. "Do you want to go talk to him?"

Katsuki shook his head and looked away. "We should eat the miso while it's fresh."

Shouto squeezed the tight muscles under his hand. "Your miso keeps very well. If Izuku wants to join us later he's still going to love it."

"He'd better." Katsuki uncrossed his arms and started to serve. "Set the tea and water on the table?"

Shouto nodded. "On it."

Izuku still hadn't emerged from Shouto's small study by the time they were ready to eat, so Shouto took the place setting beside Katsuki. It was probably foolish, but he wanted to offer what comfort he could. He didn't like seeing Katsuki upset, even if he was subtle about it.

The miso was rich and warm against his tongue and down his throat; it elicited a small moan of appreciation that didn't go unnoticed by Katsuki.

"You don't need to make food porn to make me feel better." The words were gruff but the underlying tone was amused.

"I wasn't planning on it; this is really good." Shouto looked out the window, taking in the grey clouds that threatened rain, and then back at Katsuki. "Warm Miso is perfect on days like this."

A flicker of a smile moved across Katsuki's features. "I told you yesterday was a good day to go to the park. It's supposed to be like this for the next week."

They ate in semi-comfortable silence, both of them casting the occasional glances towards the deathly silent hallway. Izuku remained absent.

When they were finished eating Shouto collected the dishes for washing and Katsuki packaged the leftovers before joining Shouto at the sink. Katsuki's warm presence drying dishes at his side was as comforting as a thick fluffy blanket, but Shouto still couldn't seem to catch his breath. He wasn't panicking, but his chest felt tight, and he couldn't place why. He'd never been afraid of Katsuki's foul moods or Izuku's withdrawal into strategic planning. Yes, Izuku's concentration could become so intense that he lost all focus on reality, but he always came back. This felt like more than that, like they were on the edge of a cliff, wind buffeting their faces, and about to jump off into the ocean.

"This is ridiculous," Katsuki muttered.

Shouto turned off the tap and reached for a towel to dry his hands. "For Izuku this is almost cruel, but I don't think he sees that right now."

Katsuki nodded. "Damn Nerd's too focused to remember he needs to fucking eat."

"I meant that he was being cruel to you." Katsuki's eyebrows rippled together, so Shouto continued. "You were just talking yesterday about wanting to spend more time together. Even if it's some misplaced sense of guilt driving him back to work, that's not respectful of your feelings. Your relationship matters too."

Katsuki shrugged and crossed his arms across his ribs again. "Maybe you should talk to him. He listens to you more."

Alone with Izuku? That was a terrible idea, especially today. There was some strange energy in the air. It wasn't worth the risk.

Shouto reached for Katsuki's arm, but Katsuki's hand met his partway there. "We could talk to him together. Sometimes hearing a message from more than one person helps it sink in."

Before Katsuki could open his mouth to respond a green blur shot out of the hallway and into the living room, drawing both of their gazes.

"It's about fucking tim—What are you doing, Deku?"

"We need to go. Now."

The urgency in Izuku's voice set them both on edge. Katsuki shifted to widen his stance and Shouto's gaze shot around the room, looking for whatever threat Izuku had perceived before him.

"What's wrong?" Katsuki grumbled.

"The task force gave us all clear to go back to our place and the doctors have cleared you to get back to work, Kacchan." Izuku was almost buried in bags and other luggage. The weight wouldn't be too much for him, but he swayed in place with what looked like pent-up energy. Even his words were coming out pressured. "Both e-mails came in this morning. Obviously, you'll be on lighter duty for a bit, but I know you'll be back on patrol probably faster than you should be." One of the bag straps started to slip down Izuku's shoulder and he fumbled to contain it. "The repairs and security upgrades are finished. If we hurry back we'll have most of the day to settle in."

Katsuki's eyes darted across Izuku's frame and the mess of luggage he was carrying. "Did you already pack?"

Izuku nodded furiously. "Called an Uber too; they'll be here soon."

"What is the fucking rush, Deku?"

A short, intense burst of air escaped Izuku's lips. "I just want things to get back to normal, Kacchan. Everything's been crazy since you were injured. I want to go home, please."

"Do you need any help?" Shouto swallowed around thickening saliva. His voice sounded strained even to his own ears. The end was here at last and it was making up for every stolen moment with breakneck speed.

Izuku's eyes widened and he took a stumbling step backward. "N-no, thank you. We're good. Thank you."

Katsuki and Shouto shared a heavy look. Katsuki looked like he was searching for an answer, but Shouto didn't have it. Shouto must have broadcast more distress than he wanted to show, because Katsuki lifted a hand to Shouto's shoulder and squeezed. Shouto's traitorous hand slid across Katsuki's, holding it in place.

Izuku's phone dinged loudly, drawing their attention back to him. Izuku fumbled with his phone, jerkily tapping the screen before roughly sliding it into one of the bags he was holding. "Time to go. Come on Kacchan."

"At least let me take a bag, Deku." Katsuki reached for one of the smaller bags, but Izuku jerked back.

"No. I've got it. You've already got weights on. I don't want to overtax you and set back your physical therapy."

Katsuki turned his puzzled face back to Shouto. "What the fuck is he doing?"

"A lot of family members hold onto stress while their loved ones are healing because they want to be strong for them." Shouto, unlike Katsuki, kept his voice low as Izuku tugged on shoes and barreled from the apartment. "Sometimes it comes out in a rush as things start to go back to normal. He probably needs to take you home before he can calm down."

Katsuki stared after his husband for a moment, shaking his head and frowning. "Maybe." He turned and his eyes met Shouto's. "Thank you for everything."

The tight knot of pain in the center of Shouto's chest twisted. "You're welcome."

He wasn't expecting the hug. One second he was staring into Katsuki's deep crimson eyes, the next he was folded against broad shoulders and a solid wall of muscle. Shouto wrapped his arms around Katsuki's slim waist and fisted his fingers in Katsuki's shirt to hide their shaking.

"If you ever need more healing, you know where to find me." Shouto all but whispered the words against Katsuki's temple. God, he was pathetic… The truth was that Katsuki was beyond needing any touch-ups. His injuries had never been anywhere near as serious as Alyssa-chan, who would probably continue to work with Shouto in decreasing increments over the next year.

Katsuki squeezed him once, pulling back when a trunk slammed noisily outside. Footfalls pounded on the steps outside before Izuku poked his head of messy green hair through the doorway. "Come on, Kacchan. It's rude to keep them waiting."

"I'm coming, Nerd."

Katsuki moved away, letting his hand trail along Shouto's arm until the very last moment. "See you around, Shouto."

It was equal parts unsettling and comforting to hear his given name fall from Katsuki's lips. Shouto's throat was almost too tight to force out, "See you."

Katsuki drew the door closed as he went. It clicked shut, and a heavy silence settled over the apartment. Shouto was alone now, and it did hurt, but not as badly as Shouto had feared it would. Had he been building up dreadful expectations in his head? Perhaps he'd reached some kind of peace about everything…

It was time to clean.

Shouto normally kept his apartment almost barren in its spotlessness, and he'd more or less been able to maintain his level of cleanliness even with unexpected guests. There wasn't a hair out of place in the kitchen. A quick walk to the spare room was only mildly more fruitful; he pushed in the chair Izuku had pulled away from the narrow desk when he was working on his laptop.

He needed to change the sheets.

The bedroom was as pristine as every other room in the apartment. Shouto curled his fingers in the soft fabric of his blankets and stumbled back when he yanked them off the surface of his futon. He was lucky enough to have a closet washer. He carted his bundle out into the hall and lifted the lid of the washer before stuffing everything inside. The mix of sharp and woodsy scents assaulted his nose; it was the smell of Katsuki's cologne and Izuku's deodorant. If he lifted the sheets to his face and inhaled he might also be able to smell the underlying musky notes of their bodies.

There was just enough room for towels in the washer. Shouto jolted to the bathroom and snatched every towel hanging there. He shoved in enough soap that the perfumed detergent was almost an assault on his senses and set the machine for the longest cycle with an extra long rinse. Ninety minutes from now it would be like they were never here.

Shouto shuffled into the living room and scanned the space for anything he might have missed. There was nothing…except a small stack of books on his coffee table. Katsuki had taken to raiding Shouto's small bookshelf for manga or novels to keep himself occupied during his increased sedentary time. When he'd been home with them, Izuku had often joined him.

When Shouto stepped forward and reached for the books his toes brushed against something hard under the coffee table. Shout glanced down. His feet weren't anywhere near the table legs… It was entirely possible one of them had dropped a book underneath the table.

Shouto dropped to his knees and folded his body until he could see the carpet. There. A black rectangular shape loomed in the dim light under the table. It was too narrow to be a book from Shouto's collection, an observation that was confirmed the moment Shouto's fingers connected with the smooth screen of a smartphone. It was warm to the touch when he pulled it out.

The lock screen lit up under Shouto's fingers. It was a picture of Izuku and Katsuki in thick coats and bundled scarves, pressed close together while a flurry of white snow cascaded around them. This was Izuku's phone; it must have fallen when he'd tried to shove it in the luggage. Katsuki's phone background was a picture of Izuku fast asleep and tangled in white sheets. It had been taken during their honeymoon, or so Katsuki claimed.

A quick trip to the window confirmed that the Uber was long gone. They probably wouldn't be back today, regardless of the forgotten phone. They needed time to be alone together again. They didn't need to worry about lost technology. Shouto swiped his fingers across the screen, entering Katsuki's birthday. It was so predictable it was barely functional as a password, but if Katsuki hadn't convinced Izuku to change it after all this time, Shouto knew he had no chance.

The screen brightened and Shouto hit the icon to bring up all open screens. Izuku had just spoken with Uber, so his phone app had to be open. Shouto's thumb rubbed the smooth surface as he scrolled and hesitated over a picture of Katsuki and him sleeping together. There were several. Shouto recognized the landmarks of his own sparse bedroom; these pictures were recent.

Why hadn't Izuku said anything? He'd made such a big deal of asking permission to keep the pictures he'd taken the first time he found Shouto and Katsuki huddled together. Had he assumed he had implicit permission to continue? Shouto didn't mind, but he thought Katsuki might have something to say about not even being told these pictures exist…

Shouto's gaze lingered a moment on the relaxed sweep of Katsuki's neck as he leaned against the bare skin of Shouto's shoulder. Katsuki and he hadn't started out so at ease around each other, but last night he hadn't even thought about it. It was just the natural thing to do… His finger hovered over the image as if he could reach out and touch the moment again.

No.

This wasn't what he was here for, and it was—technically—an invasion of privacy. Shouto closed the camera app and kept scrolling, looking for the phone app. A quick call—maybe a text would be better—to let Katsuki know the phone was safe, and his responsibility would be satisfied. It would obviously take a few texts to decide how to return the phone; Shouto might even have a few more stolen minutes in Izuku and Katsuki's home when he dropped the phone off. Or maybe they would decide to come to back to him…

Shouto's fingers came to a screeching halt over the bright white rectangle of a news article. The main text was too small to read at this angle, but the title, and the picture underneath the title were very clear.

TROUBLE IN PARADISE?

There was a picture. Izuku's arm curved across Katsuki's back. It had been pressed firmly to Katsuki's back, but from this angle it could look like Izuku wasn't touching Katsuki at all. Izuku's face glowed with his soft, personal smile; the one the cameras didn't normally see. His eyes were fixed on Shouto's face and beneath that their hands tangled with threaded fingers.

Fuck.

Shouto hadn't thought anything of accepting Izuku's hand in his, of walking so closely with the very married couple that he'd been helping for the past several months.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Izuku must have freaked out over this article. Had there ever been an e-mail from the task force? Were their home security updates completed? Or had Izuku been so desperate to get away that he didn't care?

Shouto slid over to Izuku's e-mail, blatantly rummaging now for the information he needed. The e-mails were there, confirming Izuku's story. He wasn't being reckless with his and Katsuki's safety, but he'd still been frantic to get away. He hadn't even looked in Shouto's direction.

FUCK!

This article had upset Izuku, and maybe…maybe it had helped him see the one thing Shouto had been breaking his back trying to hide…

Pain cracked against and inside Shouto like a thunderclap; it shook the phone out of suddenly paralyzed fingers. His eyes burned with shocking intensity but when Shouto lifted his hand to check for flames they came away wet. Ragged sips of air beat against his lips, squeezing around the vice that threatened to pulp Shouto's lungs in its unrelenting grip. Every nerve ending blistered with an anguish that threatened to pull Shouto into dark oblivion.

He stumbled when he shot to his feet. Sparks of light danced across his hazy vision and his legs trembled under the unbearable weight of his heart. The front door pressed against his face. He shoved his feet into barely laced sneakers. It took him three times to turn the handle before the stairs and then the street opened up before him. He was running, maybe falling, or hurtling headlong into space without any thought to a direction other than away. He needed to get away…

"What the fuck, Izuku?"

Normally when Kacchan used his given name it was a sign of intimate affection. Izuku had never heard Kacchan speak his real name in anger…he hated the way it jangled across his eardrums.

"It was rude of me to leave so quickly, I'm sorry. I'll call Shouto later and apologize. I just—" he forced himself to take a breath even if his hands never stopped moving through their luggage. "I needed to get you home." He pulled open a drawer with such force it came right out of the dresser and landed on the bed. He'd been trying to bring order to their newly refurbished apartment by unpacking, but he was only adding to the chaos.

An iron grip seized his arm, holding his wrist inches away from the next pile of crumpled clothing he'd been reaching for. "What—" Kacchan stopped speaking abruptly and yanked Izuku violently away from the bed where he'd laid out their baggage.

"Kacchan!"

Large hands forced Izuku's sleeve up to his elbow. Kacchan was holding his arm up at a painful angle, but his next words made Izuku's protests die on his lips. "Why is your fucking hand bandaged, Deku?"

Izuku twisted in Kacchan's grip trying to break the hold. "M-my wrist was worse this morning. I thought a b-bandage would help. It's time to call a doctor, you were right. Kacchan please let me go! That hurts!"

The sharp set of Kacchan's shoulders dropped just a little. "Let me see." Kacchan's fingers started to pry up edges of the bandaged and Izuku panicked.

"Kacchan, no!"

Izuku was used to seeing anger and frustration in Kacchan's eyes; he knew every varying shade and what they really meant. The hurt he saw now cut deeper than the throbbing ache in his wrist.

"I-it's not what it looks like…" His wrist thumped against his ribs when Kacchan released it and Izuku immediately cradled it to his chest, blinking against the burn at the back of his eyes.

"What does it look like, Izuku?"

"Kacchan…"

"What does it fucking look like?!"

Izuku flinched, but not because of Kacchan's sharp increase in volume. There wasn't a way out of this. He'd hoped for more time, or that distance would fix the problem before Kacchan had to know. It had been a foolish hope. No one knew him better than the angry red-eyed blonde currently staring him down, and avoiding the issue now would only hurt Kacchan more.

"Last night I saw something I didn't understand…" Izuku tugged at the bandage until it ripped free, but kept the inside of his wrist pressed tightly against his body. "I panicked…"

Izuku's hand vibrated with a tremor that started to shake his entire body when he held his wrist out for Katsuki to examine. Katsuki didn't touch him again, he just stared at the smudged soulmate mark like he'd been burned.

"I-I don't know why it looks like this!" Izuku's voice was thick and wet. "I love you, Katsuki. That hasn't changed."

Kacchan did touch him then, but there was nothing gentle about the way he yanked Izuku closer. The calculating way he turned Izuku's wrist in the light tore through Izuku's shattered nerves. Kacchan's thumb swept roughly across the mark that blotted Izuku's wrist, then he stilled. "Shouto…"

"What?! No!" Green sparks flashed across Izuku's skin when he jerked his hand back, pulling Kacchan against his chest with the same movement. Kacchan hadn't let go, his calloused fingers stood out starkly against the smudge Izuku's wrist had become. "It doesn't say, Shouto. It can't!"

Fingers brushed against his jaw, lifting Izuku's gaze to red eyes so shuttered it brought flashbacks to their early days at UA. "If you're that sure; why did you look down?"

The tears were falling quickly now, and Izuku almost gasped when his sniffle was enough for Kacchan to let him go. "Kacchan!" He was pleading now, and he didn't give a damn how pitiful he sounded. They were still in the same room, but Kacchan felt further and further away with every breath.

Kacchan shifted, his hips and feet started to angle away towards the bedroom door. Izuku started to shoot forward, but was brought up short when Kacchan's hand pressed against his chest, keeping him at arm's length. "We need to talk about this, Izuku. Use your goddamn words!"

"Shouto's name can't be there; we never had a two-way bond!"

The silence that followed stole the air from the room.

"What?" It was barely a whisper, but it raked painful talons across Izuku's heart.

Kacchan's chest was heaving. Izuku watched it rise and fall with each ragged breath because he couldn't make himself look any higher. He swallowed around something so thick it threatened to choke him. "When Shouto's soulmate mark first came in…it was my name."

"Fuck!" Kacchan jolted like he'd been burned.

Izuku slapped his hands across Kacchan's, holding it in place against his chest. "It was platonic, Kacchan! It was! You heard Shouto talk about his mark being platonic with Momo-san, and now Fuyumi-san. It's always been platonic."

Blonde lashes stuck together when Kacchan blinked. His eyes were damp too. "You really fucking believe that?"

"It's the truth!" Izuku insisted. "Shouto was a little confused at first, but when I told him I had your name on my wrist—"

"FUCK!" Kacchan spun around, pushing Izuku back into the heap of open bags on the bed. Izuku scrambled to his feet and stared wide-eyed at his husband's back.

"Kacchan?"

"You're so fucking blind, Izuku. He was confused?" Kacchan shook his head. "He never stopped loving you. That motherfucker…"

"Kacchan that's ridiculous." Izuku dared to press his hand against Kacchan's shoulder. "Shouto and I had barely spoken in years before you got hurt." Kacchan's muscles jumped under Izuku's hand before the blonde turned back around.

"You really bought that shit about his burn being an accident? Fuck." Kacchan raked a hand through his disordered blonde hair. "I'm just as fucking bad. I didn't question that goddamn story until he came to live with us."

"Kacchan?"

"You still can't fucking guess that Shouto burned himself?" Kacchan was pacing now. "It's no fucking accident that he doesn't have a soulmate mark."

"What?! No! He wouldn't…"

"Are we talking about the same damn Icy Hot?! Think, Izuku! Use your goddamn brain!" Kacchan's hands jerked up and shoved Izuku back against their wreck of a bed. Kacchan turned sharply, refusing to follow Izuku down. He ran his hand roughly across his face. "I knew he was fucking hung up on someone, but I didn't think…" Kacchan smacked his fist against his palm. The resulting explosion singed his shirt and hands.

Izuku was floundering for more than his footing this time. "That doesn't mean I love him!"

"Then what the fuck is this?!" Kacchan captured Izuku's smeared wrist and shook it in front of his face.

"I don't know!"

They panted at each other for almost a minute before Kacchan looked away and muttered. "Neither do I…"

Izuku reached for Kacchan's hand, but he jerked it away. His eyes flew to Katsuki's tortured face. "I love you." He sniffed and swallowed. "Please Kacchan, you need to calm down. We're both panicking. This doesn't need to be a disaster. We're overreacting."

Wet red eyes searched Izuku's face. Katsuki lifted his own wrist and tore off the weighted bracelet he was wearing. He barely glanced at the skin across his veins before he shoved it at Izuku. "Am I?"

The mark Izuku knew so well, the one that bore his own name, was blurred and smeared into an incomprehensible mess. Izuku couldn't begin to pick out the landmarks that used to be the letters of his name. Izuku's soulmate mark ran together like wet ink, but Katsuki's was nearly obliterated. "Kacchan…"

"I think you should go."

"What?!" Izuku stepped forward, reaching for his husband, but Katsuki stepped back and lifted a hand to ward him off.

"I need to think, Izuku, and I need to do it alone. I need to think, and I need some time."

Izuku stumbled forward until Katsuki was pressed against a wall, literally holding him at arm's length. "Katsuki…"

"Don't!" Kacchan's breath was hot across his face. "I said I need time to think. I meant it."

Izuku drew his shoulder's back, staring at his husband as evenly as he could manage. "This is my home too, Kacchan. Why should I have to go?"

The hurt and vulnerability Izuku had been clinging to in Kacchan's eyes flickered out completely. "You're really going to send me to my fucking parents? I didn't think you were that cold."

"You could get a hotel if you really wanted!"

"So could you!"

Kacchan's arms were folded tightly across his ribs; it was a defensive stance Izuku had never seen him take.

"You really just need time to think?"

Katsuki nodded, but didn't look at him. "I have no fucking clue what this means…or what happens next."

Izuku was hugging himself now too, trying to hold back the pain that had come alive in his chest. "I love you, Katsuki."

He hesitated at the door to their bedroom, in the hallway, the living room, and at the cusp of the front door waiting, praying for a reply.

Silence was his only answer.

*Peeks out from behind a stack of books* Everyone still here? I'm sorry? Please remember Katsuki has a bad temper, even if he's worked on controlling it better most of the time. They're in the thick of it now, and they all need to find their way through.

Thank you for spending some of your precious time with my story today. If you're anxious to learn what happens next, you won't have to wait long. I update every Friday afternoon/evening PST