There were many faces that Soul often saw in his head especially as he was trying to drift off to sleep. His father's look of constant disappointment was always a favorite when the clock struck midnight or even his mother's dim eyes of complete apathy would make an appearance. His brother's disinterest. The boss's bloodlust. The heartbreak on Marie's face the first time he'd seen her after officially joining up with Black Star. Those were all constants, almost like a bedtime house of mirrors that he'd see reflecting back at him. All it did was lead to tossing, turning, and bags under his eyes unless he got up and sat at the piano.

Earlier in the night, he was sure tonight would require a stop at the keys. He'd let himself dip a toe back in, showing off his ink and that bad attitude for the whole world, Maka included, to see. All that usually earned him was a combination of those looks above with maybe one or two of misplaced adoration from those still in the game. Even that idiot footsoldier had been licking his boots by the end of the night.

Instead, he stripped down to his boxers and threw himself onto his bed because there was only one face that kept replaying, refusing to give up the spotlight no matter how much the others tried to breakthrough. It was mostly because he couldn't figure out the emotion there, hidden somewhere behind jade eyes. The expectation as soon as he let the words 'project manager' out of his mouth was a hard scoff since that was all he'd ever gotten. Instead, she'd been surprised for a split second and then… What is it? What's the way she looked? It was half a smile, her eyebrows narrowing just slightly, almost unnoticeable except at that point all he could see was her face.

Because maybe she looked even more beautiful than usual. Even in the ugly basketball shorts that she'd forgotten to give back as she tramped up her stairs, even after she'd treaded dangerously through that club, even after she'd almost let her stubbornness get the best of her. All because she was looking at me like that. Like… He let himself drift through the days' worth of faces she'd given him so far, trying to play a matching game with that moment. There was a hint of obstinacy, a touch of excitement too, and suddenly each little puzzle piece clicked into place. Determination. Like she'd do it or die trying. Like she actually believes I can do it.

With no one to see, his face flushed red while he pressed his palm to his chest as if it would stop the sudden thundering of his heart. It was close to faith. It was almost loyalty. And she was giving it to him without hesitation, seemingly without even a second of doubt. "Fuck," he let the word breathlessly slip off his tongue because now that the face was figured it became just a parade made of her. The way she'd managed to grin that first day even after he'd ruined it. The way she'd read him like an open book, given him just enough praise and let him bask in it quietly, not drawing attention to the way it hurt and healed him at the same time. The way she'd called his music beautiful.

He patted his chest, preparing himself for the next burst of heartbeats because he couldn't shelve the next thought. You left so you could have a real life, so you could get that white picket fence, so you could be something and be something to someone. His other hand pushed his hair back from his forehead. Now maybe you have to admit that you might want to give all that a real try.

When Soul opened the door Maka almost dropped the box in hand. He looked tired, which wasn't really that far from normal since she was starting to think getting enough sleep wasn't his thing, but he was once again completely covered, face included. He had donned one of those facemasks you either saw in hospitals or on celebrities for anonymity, a black smear across his face that only made his eyes so much more searing.

"Hey," she was mostly breathless from the stairs but his stare wasn't helping.

"The rest downstairs?"

"Yeah," Maka nodded.

"OK." He pushed past her without another word and started down the hallway.

Maka rushed to drop off the box in her room before heading back downstairs, one small detail left out of their exchange since he'd been in such a hurry, and, of course, it was the kind of detail that was about to make today implode.

"Listen, I don't know who the fuck you think you are-"

"Papa!" Maka clamored out the front door of the building, hoping against hope that the scene was still salvageable. Soul's eyes were just below boiling as her father's fist was wrapped up in the front of his shirt. "Papa, let him go!" Maka hissed.

Spirit blinked at his daughter forcing his hand, breaking his grip on the kid's shirt. "Maka, who the hell is this guy?"

"My roommate," Maka tried to swallow down the panic, knowing this conversation should have happened days ago. "I work with him. He's nice and he's helping with the boxes, so please." Soul watched the exchange of glares for a moment before doing what he'd intended to all along, picking up another box and starting back into the building. As soon as Maka was sure he was out of ear-shot, she started again, "I can't believe you grabbed him! Papa, that was ridiculous!"

"He just started grabbing your things! How am I supposed to guess that he's your roommate and not some panty-snatcher? And your roommate, Maka? Him?" Spirit motioned in the direction of Soul's exit. "And why the hell is he dressed like a BTS member in a cold snap?"

"Papa," Maka sighed exasperatedly. "Seriously, he's nice. He's quiet."

"Yeah, sure, while he's dissecting things," Spirit pretended to shudder. "Those eyes give me the creeps. I don't like this. You really can't trust-"

"I wasn't asking your opinion!" Maka snapped. "I'm a grown woman and-"

"Let's go, blondie," Soul made her jump as he reappeared, picking up another box.

"You promised not to call me that!" Maka griped as she grabbed a box and followed behind him.

"Sorry, habit." His laugh was extra husky today and he had to clear his throat right away, leaving Maka trying to note any other differences because he seemed off, out of the ordinary, as if he ever was normal, and she couldn't help but wonder if hiding just about everything was his status quo.

"Brick collection?" Soul juggled the box in his arms.

"Books," Maka corrected.

"Should have known," Soul sighed. "Want 'em in the living room? Bet you have too many to fit all in your room."

"Well, there's not a lot of space out there…" Maka mumbled as they moved through the front door again.

"But it's your space, too," he shrugged before sidelining for the living room. She watched him drop the box with a huff. "You gotta buy the bookshelves though."

"Deal," Maka smiled.

"Don't smile at him like that!" Spirit snapped from the doorway.

"Like what?" Maka spat right back.

"Fuck's sake," Soul muttered as he squeezed in between the second quarrel of the day (that he knew of).

That was the basic formula for each revolution from the car: Soul trying to ease her into the apartment while Spirit stuck his nose in it at every turn. Maka was almost regretting telling him, wishing she'd opted for simply disappearing in the night with no forwarding address but all three managed to survive to the last box without strangling one another.

All that paled in comparison to the exasperation Maka felt as her father attempted one last cornering in the hallway. "I'm going to call every night."

"Papa, if you call every night I will change my phone number," Maka was trying to keep her voice to a whisper, knowing Soul didn't have to press an ear to the wall to hear this from the living room.

"You're living with a man, Maka, this isn't-"

"A discussion that we're having," she cut into his words with her own biting ones. "And if you try, if you attempt to embarrass me right now I will-"

"OK, OK," Spirit held up his hands in defeat. "But I don't trust him."

"And you're a great judge of character," Maka spat.

"Maka, come on," Spirit whined.

Maka opened the front door and settled her arms over her chest. "I will call you on Friday."

"A week?" Spirit balked.

"A week," Maka echoed as she motioned towards the door again.

Spirit looked between the door and her, contemplating the fight before grabbing her instead, pulling her into a hug. "I love you, kiddo."

"I know, Papa," Maka murmured. "Love you, too. Now go, please." She let out a long, lingering breath as he thankfully left without more interference. As she closed the door behind him she basked for a moment not only in the silence but the wonder of suddenly being on her own, even if Soul was technically in the next room. Her crossed arms turned into a quick squeeze before she let them drop, starting the purposeful walk into the living room. "Thank you…" she started but let it trail off at the sight of him.

Soul was technically sitting up, his elbow propped on the back of the couch and his hand holding up his head, but he was definitely asleep, not even registering her voice.

Maka walked over to him slowly, calculating possible courses of action before her hand jumped ahead of her brain, coming to rest softly on his shoulder. "Soul?"

Red eyes lazily batted awake, "Huh?"

"You did work hard today, but are you sure you're feeling OK?" Maka's hand moved from his shoulder to his forehead.

His eyes were more whites than red at the motion and he was lucky for the mask since it hid the shocked slack of his jaw. "It's nothing."

"I think you have a fever," she murmured.

"Nah," he forced her hand away.

"Is that why you're wearing the mask? You don't feel good?" Maka refused the push, her hand back on his forehead.

"It's just a cough," Soul griped as he grabbed her hand, holding it in his just long enough to get it away from the bothering motion before launching her fingers away.

"But you moved all that stuff," Maka murmured.

"Needed to get done." Soul slid down on the couch, letting his head rest against the pillows as his legs threatened her space on the couch.

Maka refused to let go of his eyes, her hands fidgeting in her lap until she felt like she was about to burst. "You shouldn't have bothered."

Soul let out a long sigh, "Just let it go, OK? I did you a favor. You suck at favors, don't you?"

"I don't-" She started the argument but squashed it on her tongue because nothing could be closer to the truth. "Thank you."

"No problem." Soul drummed his fingers on his chest, letting his eyes drift away from her stare. "Your dad's a little intense."

Maka forced air between her lips, "He's impossible! I'm so sorry that he got on your case, he's just… ridiculous. And has no right to judge anyone else's character."

"What's that mean?" Soul raised an eyebrow.

"He's a sleaze," Maka muttered. "Chases women like a dog does a bone."

Soul snorted, "So I shouldn't have bothered to cover up?"

"Well, he would have freaked either way," Maka leaned closer on the couch, bringing his eyes back to her. "Soul… can I ask you something?"

"I feel like even if I say no, I'm still getting the question," his laugh was anemic and unconvincing.

Maka's hand rested on his arm on the back of the couch, using her fingers to slide the sleeve up enough to find color. "You got upset with me when I mentioned them."

"That's not a question," he choked. Her fingertips were cool against his fiery skin and he tried to ignore that tremble in his gut again.

"Why?"

The tapping of his fingers stopped, instead gripping into his shirt as he flopped his head back so his eyes hit the ceiling. "The guy you know at work, is that the same one that was at the club?"

"Well…" Maka started but he gave her no time to finish, a sharp snap of his tongue cutting her off.

"It's not. And maybe for once, I wanted someone to see me as just the guy from work." That helplessness was back in his eyes and Maka clutched his wrist.

"Soul, you're not any different whether I see them or not," Maka murmured.

"Bullshit," he spat and she could see he was on the edge, ready to glower off at the next thing she said.

Maka tugged at his wrist, finding him still refusing to meet her eyes. She wanted to ask that question, the big 'why?' but it was too dangerous, and she could feel the string between them taut tightly and about to snap. "Because no matter how much you didn't want to show it, at the club you were still gentle." She gulped air at the end, afraid of the way the jaw worked under his mask at the statement. "You're always gentle, maybe even protective. That's the office, that's the club, and that's right now. You'd rather keep people safe, happy, than worry about yourself."

Soul was silent, his eyes drifting closed again. His breathing slowed and she was frustratingly sure he'd just fallen asleep again in an attempt to avoid the whole conversation. Suddenly, his voice croaked, "Lesson number one, Maka, that I'm not gonna say I'm the only gentle one, but you see tattoos like this in this city, and your best bet is not to trust the person."

"Most of the guys at the club had tattoos," Maka murmured.

"Yeah, because that's a NG club."

"Noah, like the footsoldier said."

While his words sounded encouraging his tone slipped into regret, "Glad you pay attention."

"Does that mean you're with them? Or you were?" Maka offered.

Soul was alive again, sitting up quickly and scoffing as he pulled his hand away from her. "Gopher wishes. Rule number two, you ask too many questions."

"That's not a rule," Maka's complaint warbled into panic as he stood up, starting the walk past her and avoiding her touch.

"Fine, rule number two, asking too many questions can get you hurt. Be careful how close you try to get to someone's secrets. You either look like a snitch or like you're up to something." Soul made no plans to slow, halfway into the doorway when, for reasons he couldn't exactly explain or rationalize to himself, her voice made him halt.

"I'm not up to something," she urged. "I want to… if we're going to help each other we're going to at least have to be friends and if-"

"Friends?" Soul's head snapped over his shoulder, the words he really wanted to crow being 'at least' but that was pipedreams from the other night.

"What, you can't be friends with me?" She grumbled back as he leaned into the doorframe, letting it hold his laughter as it shook from his chest.

"You're…" He let a few more laughs break from his lips. "Sometimes I don't get you, Maka. Tattoos, gangs, but here you are, still wanting to get best friends bracelets."

"I didn't say best friends," she corrected.

"I'll sleep on it," he replied quickly.

"What?"

"I'm going to go take a nap," he muttered, finally slipping the mask off his face as he stopped resisting the cough he'd been holding in since she got here. It rattled him enough that she was getting up off the couch but he waved his hand, motioning her still. "So I'll sleep on that idea. Us being friends."

"Alright…" She hesitated as he started his walk again, but she followed him into the hallway, only stopping to watch as he disappeared into his room, slamming the door shut behind him. At least I didn't ruin it? But her mind kept echoing the opposite. As his room went silent, her mind went wild, and she grabbed her keys and left the apartment to let him sleep in peace.

Soul's sleep was paper-thin. He heard her leave. Against his better judgment, he wondered where she'd gone, if he should get up and go with her because apparently protecting people was what he intrinsically did. What a crock, he tried to scoff but his half-snoozing brain could still easily lay out the evidence. Every time the girls go to the club and Black Star won't, you're there. Or dinner. Or a show. Or any other thing they ask you to do as an impromptu bodyguard. And you fuss and gripe but show up, tattoos out since your lean muscles have never been that intimidating.

He heard her come back and could trace the pattering of her feet through the apartment with the silence that filled every other second. The next sound he heard was the most unexpected of all, the click of his door. No knock, no soft voice before or after, just the turn of the knob. This should have been his cue to snap up, to explode at her, but instead he lay there motionless, the idea itself freezing every muscle in his body.

Her footsteps were slow, unsure, pausing at the slight creaks in the floor until she was right next to him on the bed. Soul had to convince himself not to hold his breath or not to give in to the urge to grab her and ask her what the hell she thought she was doing. There was a clink next to his head, a long breath's worth of a pause. For a second, all of him swelled with the thought she'd touch him and he could almost imagine that cool hand hovering over his back, ready to slide a finger down his bare spine. The fantasy broke as the footsteps receded, the door closing again as quietly as could be. He waited for three breaths before turning his head and opening his eyes, focusing on the bedside table. A tray - where the hell did that come from? It's not mine - with water, some cough medicine, and a note was staring him in the face, taunting him.

Because he'd tried for the past week to mentally backtrack from those stupid late night thoughts he'd had after the club. He'd still admit she was beautiful, but having that sort of thing wasn't for him and the way she was… it was just that nice, girl-next-door act she had going for her. It wasn't because he mattered. It wasn't because anything between the two of them was possible. Regardless of him trying to poison himself again, Soul reached out for the note, bringing it close enough to read.

"Take the medicine so you can really sleep on it. I don't want you making some stupid decision because the cough kept you awake." And a few lines down as if she needed to fill the page, she continued, "P.s. do not be mad at me for coming into your room. It was for a good reason."

He gently placed the note back on the tray and while half of him was ready to smile, the overwhelming wave of hopelessness crashed over him first. How long until you get scared? How long until you see me for what I really am?