You should still be concerned, but at least I leave you feeling happy at the end of this chapter.

Black Star was waiting for him outside of work, arms as tight across his chest as the frown on his lips. "Yo."

"It's early for you," Soul laughed but it crumbled in his mouth as no smile came to Black Star's face. He took a second, throwing his head over his shoulder to Maka. "Meet you inside." She didn't seem to like that answer, her lips pressing into a thin line as she glared at him until she disappeared into the building.

"Buy me breakfast," Black Star snapped.

They walked to the convenience store and Soul did as he was told, not just watching but feeling the tension come off Black Star in waves. Mondays were supposed to suck, but this was adding a particular sour flavor to the day already. After he paid there still hadn't been a break or even a peep from Black Star until they hit the concrete again. "You're extra steely today."

"Boss asked about your girl," Black Star finally spit out the words that had been playing across his mind since late Saturday night. "Whole name and everything. Knows she works with us."

Each word drove another icy needle into his heart. "And you said?"

"Couldn't lie and say you didn't know each other, and couldn't say nothing was going on because Eruka's got pictures of you two. You know that?"

"Yeah," Soul sighed. "I made a mistake."

"Fuck yeah, you made a mistake, idiot," he barked. "Pictures from the club, pictures holding hands. You know better."

"Then what'd you tell her?" Soul's gut was quaking as he stopped short right outside of the building, a hand coming to Black Star's chest. "It's OK if you didn't lie. I get it."

"No, I lied," he grumbled. "Told her you two were fucking. Just having sex, no strings attached. Tried to emphasize the fact that you didn't give a fuck about her, as much good as that'll do." Soul choked on the idea, his face reddening. "Told her Maka was a thrill chaser and that you'd get tired of it eventually. I gave it a week." Black Star prodded him in the chest. "So you better cut the public crap after a week if you're not already. Never be seen out with her again if you can help it especially since Medusa's watching. Unless you want to make another dipshit deal with her. I wonder how much it would cost you for Maka's protection, too."

"Too much," Soul muttered.

"Too much is goddamn right," Black Star snapped. "I'm starting to think I was wrong to even suggest going straight, Soul. I don't think she's gonna let you go. I'm…"

"Fucking worried," Soul finished for him with a sigh. "Me, too. And… there's no plan B, right? I go back or…"

"Look," Black Star took a second to grit his teeth. "I've started feeling like it's any day now I'll get a call from Marie. Lucky number seven years of Stein being 'dead' but what if our luck runs out for eight? And you want out, and I'll tell you Kim and Kilik aren't holding up like they used to because the boss… well, you can fucking guess. Either way, maybe it's time to start thinking about a plan B. So be careful while I think, OK?"

"Seriously?" Soul found himself clutching into Black Star's shirt, the millions of implications racing across his brain in a minute. "You can't-"

"Hold your fucking horses," Black Star hissed. "I said, thinking. Planning, doing is a long way off. So do what I said - be careful." He unraveled Soul's fingers from his shirt. "In the meantime, you kiss her yet?"

"None of your damn business," Soul snapped quickly as he turned on his heels and pushed through the door to the building.

"Meaning no," Black Star cackled. "Seriously, dude, you're hopeless."

"It'll happen," he grumbled weakly.

"In a year, sure," Black Star continued to rumble with laughter as they hit the stairwell. "And you brought her to the house."

"Marie ratted me out?" Soul shot Black Star a frown.

"Nah, Shelley had some choice words to say over the phone," Black Star grinned. "Little sis isn't used to sharing."

Soul snorted a laugh as they rounded the corner into the office. Maka's eyes were already expectantly waiting and didn't flick away when they met his, unabashedly telling him he was being waited for. Soul threw one last smirk over his shoulder to Black Star, "Look at that fucking face."

"You're in trouble," Black Star whistled before slapping Soul firmly on the shoulder as they parted.

"I always am," he muttered as he made the last few steps to his desk, trying to ease into the seat like she wasn't giving him a glare close to something Marie would use. "Black Star wanted breakfast," Soul started innocently, trying on a tentative smile.

Maka huffed in reply as she glued her eyes to her computer screen.

"You're pouting," a soft chuckle followed it, making the wrinkle in her forehead worse.

"You're lying," she muttered back.

"Not lying," he tapped a treacherous finger on her side of the desk. "Telling only part of the truth."

Maka let her hand slide off the mouse and her finger touch his. "What's the other part?"

"Probably just what you're thinking," he lowered his voice so the sound barely drifted between the two of them let alone the rest of the office. "They know your full name. Where you work. They asked Blake about you."

Her eyes finally drifted from the screen to his, her frown softening into a nervous nibble at her lower lip. "Which means…"

"What I said," Soul nodded. "No more taking risks, got it?"

"Got it," Maka murmured. "But what did Blake tell them?"

Soul choked on the idea as it streamed back into his mind, "Well, uh…"

"What?" she tilted her head, an amused smile coming to her face.

"Nothin' I want to repeat at work," he grumbled.

"What does that mean?" Maka nudged his finger again. "Will you tell me after work?"

Soul let his eyes linger around the room, "Can't promise I'll ever tell you." He brought his hand back, "And anyway, we have a shit-ton of work to do. This Eibon thing isn't done and I still have a bad feeling about the whole damn thing."

Maka sighed as she retrieved her hand as well, using it to smooth back her hair. "You're not giving up on that?"

"Look, you go through the design I have, nitpick to your heart's content, and I'm just going to dig today. I know there's something." And his gut had never let him down.

Maka slipped into silence, letting him simply mutter over his keyboard for the next few hours. Just before lunch, he seemed to stir, taking his cellphone out of his pocket and wandering to one of the conference rooms, a slip of paper tightly gripped in his fingers. When he returned it was with an exhale that she thought would never end, his head resting in his hands for a solid minute regardless of how she was staring at him.

"Soul?"

"Yeah." He slid his fingers through his hair before risking a look at her. "I found something. I think. I could be overthinking, but-"

"What is it?" Maka leaned closer.

"His wife died," Soul gritted his teeth for a second before continuing. "And he did a great job of burying it. Not saying he did it, death certificate says natural death. She apparently had some kind of long-term sickness. But… I don't like it, Maka."

Her forehead was crinkled in thought, trying to follow the clues he was leaving her with. "Because you think he did it?"

Soul shook his head swiftly, "Just, this is the overthinking part. He lost the person he loved the most in the world, and he hides it from everyone else so he's not reminded of the pain. So, why change everything up, draw attention to himself? I think it's some kind of hysteric gut reaction and I don't like the idea of taking advantage of that."

You are a softy, Maka caught herself from letting the sigh sound too sweet. "And you definitely can't ask the client 'Are we doing this because your wife passed away?'"

"Didn't think so," he huffed. "Because I could definitely be making up a bullshit story, right?"

"You may be making a couple of assumptions," she murmured, "and it's a job, Soul. If it's what the client's asking for, aren't we supposed to do it?"

"But that's the thing - he's asking for more than that, technically." His hands helplessly worked the air for emphasis. "These hoops, the idea of seeing us as people rather than just product, it's like he's looking to fill that hole, make some kind of connection."

Maka sat back in her chair, letting it creak as she swiveled. "That might be overthinking."

"Yeah, I know, but…" He shook his head. "Either way, I don't like it. And what I like less is who his last design team was, Spider Web Designs."

Her eyebrows raised, "I've heard of them. They're supposed to be good."

"Because they're connected," Soul urged. "They're the legal side while Mosquito is the street face. Their boss? My boss's sister."

All the color drained from Maka's face. "You mean…" She prodded at her side, the spot a mirror of where the old wound was that he had pressed her fingers to.

"Not many guys named Mosquito," Soul sighed. "Which means a top design firm, connected at every level, lost a lucrative contract. Something tells me that's not happening without a fight and… there's only a slim chance that they don't know who I am. Showing up there… it could be trouble."

Maka couldn't figure out what to do with her hands because nothing felt comfortable anymore and she found herself digging subconsciously into that spot. "So our choice is to put you in danger or lose the contract?"

"Not like we'll have a repeat of the Mosquito thing." Soul desperately wanted to touch her because he could see that statement didn't negate any of the panic that was starting to make the whites pop in her eyes. Are you saying you want to calm her with your touch? You think you do that for her? There was that dark little voice again and he swallowed it, blaming it on the current line of thought. "We're going through with this stupid party, but I can't guarantee that Spider Web isn't going to play dirty and bring up my past. I guess I'm just warning you that being my partner on this, well, might already be putting you at a disadvantage."

Once again he expected the fear to overtake her, leaving her unable to do anything but agree with him. This moment should have been another crack in their partnership, another thing to press her another aching step away from him. Just like the piano bar should have been a push. Just like the photo. It didn't seem like he was going to learn though, because his expectation started to crumble as her furrowed brow slowly started to melt into that wild conviction. "No. I think it puts us at an advantage. We know everything they're hiding thanks to you. There's no way we can lose."

Soul had obviously squashed any idea of going out, with good reason Maka reassured herself, but it left them with ample time around the apartment in each other's space more often than not. Though, today it seemed like a not, and, for once, it wasn't his fault. She'd stayed in her room not because of a fight or an imagined slight but simply because of a day on the calendar. It wasn't something she marked down but instead felt in her bones as if it was brought by the change of the weather. This year it came with an added complication because, as she found out that morning when she looked over at him from her coffee cup, being near him seemed to make the feeling worse.

They had been or were, Maka tried to remind herself, crawling towards something albeit at a snail's pace. She could make all the excuses she wanted that they were friends, but at least her own feelings were clear: when they touched all she wanted was more. After they hugged at Marie's she had crossed all her fingers and toes that he would seal that moment with a kiss. And why hadn't she just jumped the gun and did it herself like all their other physical steps? Because she could have these moments as friends, and if she ruined that by pushing into something he didn't want, she'd lose it altogether. Not to mention lose work, lose her home, lose just about every last thing that was becoming important to her, so that was a line she couldn't cross.

But the 'Divorce day' always brought with it the idea that romance, that love, wasn't real, was just an imperfect system that ended. That made that look in his eye, the one that she imagined said 'I'm happy to see you' especially painful. Because maybe he'd kiss her someday. Maybe they'd actually have a real date. Maybe one day she'd know what it felt like to be tangled up in him. But then maybe one day it would end. Maybe he'd fall out of love. Maybe he'd cheat. Maybe he'd leave her. Or maybe he just wouldn't love her at all in the first place. Each maybe became a searing burn in her heart.

When she found him napping on the couch it should have been easy to walk away, keep on her journey to the kitchen for water and that's honestly what her mind was screaming. Regardless, her feet moved towards the end of the sectional, that corner space enough that she could seat herself right next to his head. She did. He didn't stir. She let a shaky finger touch one of the spikes of his hair. His breathing didn't change. Her face turned something close to scarlet because she knew what the real urge was, to curl up next to him, to rest her cheek on the same pillow and have his arms around her. That was impossible.

So was her next move as she let her hand dare even closer, brushing his hair with her fingertips. Soul still seemed dead to the world so she risked it a second time, having the audacity to almost touch his scalp with the next sweep. What was supposed to be an act of soothing became one for herself, feeling the tendrils of his hair tickling at her palm, counting his slow breaths until some of the feelings subsided. It was mostly because this was another limbo, a place where how much she cared about him could be hidden.

But Soul hadn't been asleep for the entirety of it, and, in a way, had been laying a trap for her all along. She'd been avoiding him today, he knew it not just because of the way she hid in her room for most of it but just the vibe, the closed-door in her heart that was usually wide open. What he hadn't been prepared for was her actually touching him, and in a fashion only Marie had ever, though it definitely didn't elicit exactly the same feelings as Marie's. It was comforting, of course, but at the same time electrifying, making him nervous enough that a knot had started in his gut. Now he was stuck in limbo because fuck, did he never want this to end but at the same time, it felt like the only chance he'd have to confront her: to ask her the stupid question he'd be playing with all morning.

"What's wrong?" he tried his best to make it sound like a half-asleep mutter but she still jumped, her hand instantly detaching and hovering.

"I'm sorry," came as a quick, warbling yelp.

Before she could get up, which had definitely been her intention, he rolled onto his back, his head coming enough off of the pillow that it pressed against her thigh while his hand grasped the wrist that had just been touching him. He easily ignored the apology. "You're off today. What's wrong?"

The instantaneous burn in her eyes was embarrassing and she weighed how likely it would be that she'd be able to rip herself away from him. "I'm sorry, I never should have-"

"What part of 'what's wrong?' am I not making clear?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "Plus, I get it, you get touchy when you're unhappy. I don't mind it." He forced the admission, watching thankfully as it seemed to wash over her with at least a modicum of relief. I should be telling you that I love it, but looking at you today I'm not sure you're ready for that. Or, fuck, am I even ready for that?

The relief turned into a different kind of wave, the one where there was no use fighting the tears. "It's stupid."

He could freshly remember the moment like it was yesterday, the first time they ate together, the way she'd used that phrase before to devalue her own pain. It's her parents. Something about that. Has to be. But there was a danger there because what was wading through her heart going to do? She already seemed on a fence today with him and he was ready to let that same old fear keep him stuck. Instead, he dropped her wrist so he could catch a few tears with his fingers. "I'm asking for best friend status."

"What?" She was practically speechless from his touch but the added words make it barely possible to eke out a word.

"You said before: best friend or we don't talk about it, and I want you to talk about it, so I'm asking." That was as long as he could keep his fingers there without breaking into a sweat so he let his hand fall back to his chest, the tears from his fingertips staining his shirt.

"Um," she hummed it out, trying to let the sound cool her but all it did was spring more tears from her eyes. She pressed her fingers to her face, knowing that hiding was futile but having no other choice.

"Guess that backfired," he muttered as he sat up. As he tried to turn to her she seemed to slide even further away, leaving him no choice but to grab at her shoulders, keeping her planted on the couch. "You can tell me to fuck off, Maka. Go ahead. Feelings aren't going to be hurt. But I'm asking you to give me a chance. I'm usually not good at being nosy but I guess I've had enough inspiration the past six months."

Maka was taking shaking breaths behind her palms but there was no resistance under his fingers. Finally, her hands dropped, her eyes bleary and red as she hiccuped one more breath. "I told you, it's stupid. It's just… today's the anniversary of the divorce. And it shouldn't even be a one-day thing because the last few years they fought all the time but this is when I remember Mom-" That choked her but his hands were instantly there to catch her, moving from her shoulders to touch her face, tentatively clear and letting his thumbs rub along her cheekbones. "Mom left us. I don't blame her for Papa, but…"

"Leaving you wasn't exactly fair," he murmured.

"And what's worse is I'm mad you said that," she choked on a bitter laugh.

"Sorry." He pulled his hands away, only to have her catch them on their way back, clutching them tightly.

Her fingers were desperately tangling with his. "Don't be. It's the truth, but for some reason, I always want to forgive her, and that's the worse part."

"It's because you're too good," Soul managed a half-smile. "You always see the best in people. Not necessarily a bad thing, but… it gets you hurt a lot easier."

"Not a bad thing?" she murmured.

"Well, I'd be in deep shit if you gave up on that," he squeezed her hands. "So don't change… but next time, you can skip the hair petting and go straight to telling me what's wrong." Oh, you idiot! Why did you say that? You might as well have said 'don't touch me,' you fucking moron.

"You said you didn't mind, so you can't take it back," she grumbled, melting away the stream of curses in his head. "But maybe next time I won't wait all day."

Because, at least, we're best friends. Whatever that means, but it's a step, right? It's forward momentum while I cling to her fingers and wish my hands were back on her cheeks. "Just as long as you wait until I've had my coffee."