He didn't like it.

The audio he'd recorded felt forced, and every joke he'd squandered left him cringing away from his computer. What was supposed to be a simple venting video had become another thing to be anxious about. He sounded stupid, but then he sounded too serious; he joked around too much and then not enough. It was like his entire life was being summed up in one nerve-wracking video. How his ego hadn't been completely depleted by the end of the five minutes (blank screen- just him talking), he didn't know.

"Why don't you rant and post it on some form of social media?" Miss Baxter's voice echoed in his memory. "I'm sure you'll find some good advice from somebody who's been in your shoes."

That might've worked, you know, if I didn't have crippling self-esteem issues.

Ed groaned and shoved his head into his hands, elbows sliding slowly down the wood of his desk so that his forehead came to collide with the keyboard. How hard was it to ask a bunch of strangers for help? What was so hard about asking people he'd never met before what he should study to do for the rest of his life, forever and ever? Well, he scoffed to himself; he was just being grouchy now. He needed a distraction. He had to do something, keep his hands busy.

He turned his head to its side, paying the keys that stuck to his face little attention in his dispassion. His eyes came to sit upon his gaming console, where it laid unused since a month ago. He remembered the rush of grief that'd hit him as he'd last selected 'new game', how he'd left the dojo in the early morning and sat at the Balton's mansion until his cousin came home so he could worry her sick. Like I've been doing to Izzy…

He sighed and dug his face into the bend of his arm. He didn't mean to keep things from her. It wasn't like him. He hated worrying her and he hated leaving her in the dark, but this was one thing he couldn't go to her about. Him going to her to cry about losing Spender and about fearing for his own future- it would all sound ridiculous to her. Isabel knew who she was, what she was doing, who she loved and missed, and he was struggling to catch up. He wanted to be brave. He wanted to take his fears by the horns and use them to drive himself through the wall holding him back. He wanted to take Isabel by her hands and tell her that he really didn't care where he went during and after college, so long as it let him stay with her, but his guts hadn't grown like the rest of his body had. He was still a coward, gutless and terrified of getting stuck doing something he hated the rest of his life. He wanted nothing more than to drag his bed covers over his head and wake up when everything was gone and past, when he wasn't questioning where his life was going and whether or not the people he loved would be there taking the same road.

Spender was the first one to go- would he see his other friends leave, too?

Ed stretched when he stood up, arms above his head as the muscles strained and the bones in his back cracked. He'd just have to finish the video, post it, and see where it took him. He glanced from his console to his computer, and then to his camera placed conspicuously on top of his monitor. I wonder…

Maybe people would actually watch the video if there was something interesting to look at while he vented- like a video game?

It was late enough in the day that the blue of the sky was beginning to pale, but early enough that the sunset wasn't turning the horizon an array of oranges and pinks. Isabel swung her plastic grocery bags over her arm as she busied herself texting with the other hand. She'd been trying to get a hold of Max after his 'debacle' with Isaac, but (surprise, surprise) he still hadn't responded to any of her messages. Part of her understood, because they'd been friends for a long time before they became anything else, and the result was one of her worst fears, but it'd been a month. She was sick and tired of everyone she cared about hiding their emotions for god knows what reasons- first Ed, then Max, though she doubted Isaac would ever hide what he was feeling from anyone. He was like her in that respect- proud of feeling things, even more proud of using them. She and Isaac could never hide like Ed and Max were- like Spender used to.

She frowned and dropped her phone into one of the grocery bags, one she knew hadn't begun the process of defrosting on her long trek home.

It was funny, in a kind of pathetic way, how they all held onto Spender by collecting bits and pieces of his personality. Ed delivered jokes with a straight face, Isaac had become overconfident in his abilities, Max was making even worse jokes than usual, and she knew she'd taken on the leadership role when he'd gone. There was no telling how long those components of their personalities had been there, or how Spender had influenced those aspects to grow, but she knew it was because of him. She knew it was because he'd left an impact on them. She still wished she could ask him things; he probably would have known what to do about Ed, even if she'd have hid her budding gushy feelings about the idiot horribly. He might've even known how to help Max and Isaac through whatever it was they were going through. Thoughts like that made the stinging feeling behind her eyes come back, though it was easier to deal with nowadays. She'd heard that the feeling never goes away, that it only gets easier to handle it over time, and that was true so far.

Isabel hummed as she reached the front porch of the dojo, readjusting the bags over her arms that were starting to feel like tight ropes around her skin. She'd walk through the front door, be greeted by a precocious student or two, and wander into the kitchen to put everything away. She hoped the sounds of chips being stuffed into cabinets would summon Ed from the depths of his closed (and locked) bedroom, but that might've been too much to ask for. Things hadn't gotten any better with him and she'd tried everything. She'd tried leaving him alone and talking to him through the door and inviting him to hang out with her and some of the students, but the response was always the same.

"No thanks, Izzy- maybe later."

Later my ass. When he gets out of that room, I'm gonna knock him so hard in the stomach he'll be lucky to breathe again!

Just as the thought crossed her mind, her foot went flying into something soft and firm at the top of the staircase leading up to the front door. Isabel yelped and swung her burdened arms around, trying desperately to regain her balance as her body swayed to and fro. She inhaled sharply and placed her hands on the door in front of her, suddenly thankful it didn't open unless she gripped the handle. Once she was bent into what could have only been described as a new yoga position, she could regain her balance and release the air that'd been stuck in her throat momentarily. Whatever was at her feet stayed put, and she slowly maneuvered her legs over so that she could stand up straight. "What the hell…?"

Ed grinned from ear-to-ear as he clicked the 'submit' button. With the visual assistance of his expert button-pressing and the script he'd jotted down beforehand, the new video he'd prepared left him feeling a million times more confident. Of course, he'd published it before he could second-guess himself, because he always did that and it was a horrible problem to have, but the video was officially off his checklist. With any luck, he'd receive some feedback, hopefully about his life but he didn't mind getting some help with editing.

"And with that, I'm gonna take a nap."

He said, to which the universe replied: no, no you are not.

There was a scream downstairs, and though Ed couldn't hear the words, he knew that voice better than the face in the mirror. Ed's heart skipped a beat, and he was up and out of his chair and out of his room in seconds. "Isabel!" A quick glance from behind the second-floor railing proved his ears right. Isabel was the one who'd screamed, but her expression was less terrified than it was stuck between panicked and enthusiastic. She struggled with something beyond the threshold of the door, wincing as she somehow managed to drag the mystery object and all of the apparent grocery bags on her arms into the training room.

He blinked and raced down the stairs, meeting her at the foot with wide eyes and an even wider mindset. She glanced up at him from where she was squatting on the floor, hair mangled and chocolate eyes startled. "Ed, I need you to call Zarei." With one final tug, Isabel grunted and made one last pull through the front doors. What Ed set his eyes on was a tuff of blonde hair, much like his own, and a white button-up shirt dirtied with mud and grass stains.

What he set his eyes on was one Richard Spender, who was unconscious but very obviously breathing.

He felt his jaw drop as his mind raced to catch up with what laid before him. Unsure of what to do with his hands, they grasped at the open air in sync with his opening and closing mouth. "Ed!" Isabel called out to him, one hand tugging frantically at Spender's limp body. "Go call Zarei! I've got this!"

She thought she would have been happy, relieved even, that Spender was alive. Hell, he wasn't just alive; there wasn't anything wrong with him! He wasn't a ghost, his blood pressure was good, his vitals checked out- she should have been overjoyed!

What Isabel felt, however, was merely disbelief- disbelief that he was alive and disbelief that he was going to be just fine. She'd spent months mourning his loss. She'd gone to his funeral and placed flowers on his grave. She'd seen her grandfather grieve for the first time in her life, and she might've bet the first time in his. She'd even gotten used to the idea of not having him around, as much as she'd hated it, and yet the man sat there sleeping in the dojo's infirmary like he'd just had a bad run-in with some overly-aggressive spirit. None of it seemed real, like she'd wake up in her empty bed with the moon hanging outside her window. The concept held no more pain, she found, because the sensible part of her recognized that Richard Spender was indeed there in the flesh. She was sitting there at his bedside, watching him breath in and out.

He was alive.

"I wondered if I'd ever see a wish of mine come true." Zarei walked into the room on light feet, as expected. She entered rooms without sound often, and maybe somebody else would have been surprised to hear her- Isabel was not. Zarei was slipping gloves off of her hands, mumbling to herself about how they were wasted because there was nothing bleeding, oozing, or contagious about Spender. "It's something little girls never grow out of, hoping their wishes will come true." Isabel glanced at her from the side, and then looked back at Spender. Once the gloves were disposed of in the nearest trash can, Zarei moved to the sink to wash her hands with the lemon-scented soap Isabel had just purchased. "I made a wish before his funeral. I pulled petals off one of the orchids and hoped that I'd see him again one day."

She turned the faucet off and grabbed a paper towel, staring down at her fingers like she was remembering every individual petal. Isabel knew well enough that might have been the case. Zarei snorted to hide the smile inching across her lips. "I thought that, if this one wish was granted, then I'd surely see his ghost. Fate always seems to mess with me in that way. All I can think is that someone else had the same wish, and fate just so happened to humor them. So tell me," she pulled up another chair beside Isabel, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap as her gaze fell over Spender's sleeping body. "When did you make your wish?"

"I didn't make one."

"That's not what I asked."

Isabel snorted, too, turning her head to the window above Spender's bed. Night had finally come, and there were stars where she'd seen a cloudy blue sky. "And I didn't answer."

Zarei chuckled. Isabel would have taken that as a silent white flag, but Zarei was far too observant- read her far too well. She watched as Spender's chest rose and fell with her heartbeat, all the more aware that he was the one on the verge of waking up. A quick sideways glance at Zarei verified that she wasn't the only one ready to pinch her own skin. There was a haze over her eyes that reflected the surreal sensation Isabel felt.

She coughed into her hand and stared into her lap. "I wanted to ask him for advice."

"About?"

Isabel swallowed. "The dojo- me running it." She crossed her arms and leaned further into her chair. "If I'm capable of it…"

"It's not something you need to worry about anymore, is it?"

They both fell silent, Zarei staring at Isabel's turned head and Isabel contemplating her next words.

It hadn't occurred to her just yet, that Spender's reappearance meant she didn't have to struggle with her options (or lack thereof). Grandpa Guerra would want Spender to take the dojo and any responsibility that'd been on her shoulders before was gone in a cloud of dazzling smoke.

"Though, in truth, I don't think you would have made a bad master. You are, after all, Richard's student."

Isabel glanced up from her lap, wide eyes meeting Zarei's grinning gaze. With that, Zarei stood and brushed her dress off, parting with little words aside from "call me when he wakes up".

Isaac and Max found their way into the infirmary around a half an hour later, and though they came together she could see they were keeping their distance. They didn't say a word to each-other, and she could count on one hand the number of times they looked in the other's general direction. Three feet remained between them at all times, and though that annoyed her as a friend, she was more preoccupied with her somehow-alive teacher and his new visitors.

"How is he?" Isaac was the first to say a word.

"He's great, actually. Apparently rising from the dead doesn't come with any of the drawbacks you'd expect- like rotting flesh."

"Gross- but I'm glad to hear it."

Max approached Spender's bedside cautiously, and Isabel knew he felt the same as she did- disbelief, joy, skepticism, optimism, all in one wave. He reached out a shaking hand, but stopped inches away from their teacher's face. He was nervous and she understood that. It still seemed like some type of cruel trick. "This is insane."

"You're not the one who tripped over his limp, unconscious body."

"No I was not. Must have been horrifying for you."

"Scarred for life." She snickered and he chuckled. She was quite proud of her delivery- stone face, played straight, all around one of her better moments. It was something Ed would have laughed at- Ed, who suspiciously was nowhere to be found. Isabel glanced to the door, expecting him to be leaning against the frame with his signature toothy grin and an out-of-place joke, but she only saw some of the younger students sneaking peeks at the older kids. She smiled at them and gestured for them to leave, because it was late and she knew her grandfather would have them up to train come the rise of the sun. The kids giggled and scurried away, having fulfilled their morbid curiosity. Isabel turned back to her friends, Max having tucked his hands in his pockets and Isaac seemingly entranced by the single hand he held on the railing of Spender's bed.

"Where's Ed?"

Max blinked and Isaac nodded to the door. "He went out for a while," Isaac shrugged "said he was going to see Cindy."

Isabel's heart leaped in her chest, and the feeling wasn't quite as pleasant as it had been earlier. That familiar green feeling crawled along her ribcage and threatened to choke her. She felt like a spoiled child who hadn't gotten what she wanted, like she had any word over Ed leaving just because she loved him. She supposed it was stupid, and petty, but the ugly emotion was still there. There was a trace of panic under her skin, even though she knew he was safe, and she had to wonder why. She wondered why he left, why he had to see Cindy in person and, more than anything, why he wasn't there with her. Isabel froze, nails scratching at her arms where she held herself tight because no one else would. "Wait, what? Why wouldn't he just call her?"

Isaac winced. "I don't know-!"

"Why wouldn't he tell me he was leaving?" Her voice must have sounded as doleful as she felt, because Max and Isaac looked at her with pity in their eyes. She could feel herself cracking, stone exterior breaking down under her bones. First Spender's death, then Ed putting distance between them, being put in charge of the dojo, and then Spender turning up alive and well after she'd buried an empty casket…

She brought her palm to her mouth and sobbed, burning tears and sweat sliding down her face and wetting the entire back of her hand. Strands of hair stuck to the sides of her head as she curled into herself, undignified and pitiful and she was wholly mortified but too exhausted to care. Her body shook with each exhale of hot air, shoulders trembling and stomach churning. God, she felt sick.

Arms draped in a blue sweater wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her into a hug, the humid scent of rain and grass on her nose. Isaac smelled like summer, and so she was reminded of every three months between the school years past that she didn't have to worry about inheriting students or losing her loved ones to life's ever-looming consequence or falling out of sync with Ed. She buried her head into Isaac's shoulder and tugged at the front of his shirt. Another hand was at her back moments later, rubbing comforting circles into her tense muscles. No doubt Max was glancing away, tipping the front of his cap over his eyes so he wouldn't have to admit he was feeling some form of empathy.

Ed banged incessantly on the front doors of Balton Mansion, smile so wide he could hardly contain himself. He put the video up, Spender was alive- it was shaping up to be a pretty good day! When there was no answer, he knocked again and again and again, and he'd keep knocking until he got an answer.

Cindy came to the door in a long elderly-looking nightgown, pink silk tied loosely around her waist. She was rubbing a squinted eye, face pale and skin dark under her eyes. He realized she must have been tired, as it was eight o'clock at night, but the news was far too important. "Eddy?" She forced a smile when she recognized who it was. "What are you doing here so late?"

"It's a long story," he looked over her shoulder "can I come in?"

The Balton Mansion was huge, and Ed was used to living in a large home. The dojo was nothing to bat an eyelash at, either, but he still found himself in awe every time he stepped foot in the Balton's home. It wasn't right, feeling so out-of-place in the home of his own blood, and his aunt and uncle would be upset to find that he felt that way, but he was unsettled nevertheless. The feeling had lessened with every visit, especially the latest ones since they were all so close together, so he supposed that was a good thing.

Cindy followed his absent-minded path around one of their many living rooms, the same one, he noted, they'd been in the night Spender's loss had finally hit him. It seemed so stupid now that he was alive, like all of that grief was for nothing. It kind of was, he guessed. The fire wasn't cackling, and in its place was charred dead wood, but a fresh plate of cookies still sat at the coffee table.

"Do you want one?" Cindy noticed he'd been looking.

"No, not really." Cookies weren't important to him, not right now. "I've got something to tell you, and you might wanna sit down."

Cindy's brows furrowed, but she took a seat on the couch anyway, hands folded in her lap and head tilted to the side. Her green tired eyes were wide above her bags, and he reveled in knowing that he'd turn her frown on its side in only moments. Instead of taking a seat beside her on the couch, he came to kneel in front of her, taking both her hands in his own. She went red and he went jittery, as though he'd downed a gallon of coffee on his way over. He'd thought about it, but pure adrenaline was enough for him to get through the moment. "Okay, so listen. Isabel came back from the store a few hours ago…"

"Yeah?"

"… and she might have found someone sleeping on our front porch?"

"Eddy, if you're about to tell me she found an orphaned infant and you plan to raise it as your own, I'm going to go to bed."

"No, Cindy, listen- she found Spender." He felt her squeeze his hands. "He's alive- and he's okay!"

It took a few seconds, but he could see realization dawn on her face, furrowed brows rising as high as her hairline. "Oh my god, Eddy!" She gasped and pulled her hands away to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him forward and into the couch as much as she could without pulling his head clean off. "That's amazing! How is this possible?"

"We don't know! He hasn't woken up yet, but who cares? He's okay! He's home!"

Ed lifted Cindy off the couch and swung her around in a small circle, careful not to hit the coffee table, wrapping his arms around her waist and digging his head into her shoulder. They laughed together and swayed from side-to-side, and he knew that they must have radiated happiness levels off the charts. There was, after all, little else that could make a person cheerier than a lost loved one appearing miraculously on their doorstep. Ed felt like he was bursting at the seams with joy, like happiness was threatening to tear him apart and release into the wild to be dispersed among more deserving candidates.

He let Cindy's feet meet the ground again, first her toes and then the soles of her slippers.

He pulled away and rested his hands on her shoulders. Her smile was as wide as his was, and it reminded him again that he was standing in the Balton Mansion- not the dojo, not home.

Not where Isabel was.

"I've got to go."

"What, why? You just got here!"

"Yeah, but for all I know, Isabel's alone and Spender's unconscious." He squeezed her and he wasn't sure why. He could feel Isabel's head on his shoulder, imagine the smell of coconuts and ocean water- like the first time they'd kissed. He could hear her sigh and the chime of her voice, the joy in her smile when he made her laugh. She was at the dojo, alone with the teacher they'd both thought was gone for good, and he was somewhere else when she might've needed him the most.

He hadn't known exactly why he'd felt the sudden urge to go see Cindy. He thought it might've been because she'd become a safe zone of sorts for him, a person to run to when he just couldn't go to anyone else. But why- why was she the only person he could run to? Max was a pretty good listener and Isaac always had an ear open, so why was it Cindy?

Because she's family, he realized. Cindy is the closest thing I have to a sibling- to my parents. Of course I came to her about this, she's my cousin.

But Isabel was family, too, although very different from the kind Cindy was. Isabel was his best friend and his partner in crime, and quite possibly his soulmate. There was nobody else who knew him better, who knew his buttons and his proudest moments and his favorite things- why wouldn't he let her know his doubts too? The entire situation seemed ridiculous to him, then. He'd been suffering in silence because he wanted to protect Isabel, but all he was doing was jeopardizing what they already had by becoming a different person when she wasn't looking. She deserved more than that and so did he.

A real man wouldn't hide his fears from the woman he loved, and he wouldn't either.

"As much as I've leaned on you these last few months," Ed frowned and turned his gaze to their feet. "I need to man up and start talking to Isabel. I've never told her, or anyone, this but…" he swallowed and Cindy inched closer "I love her."

Saying it out loud was rewarding in its own way. It was like a weight was lifted from his shoulders, as though it was a secret he'd intentionally been nursing and hiding for years. Slowly, his lips twisted into a grin that felt familiar on his face. "I love her. I love Isabel! If I want to be her man, if I want to stay by her side for the rest of my life, then I can't shut her out like this- even when it's easier to!" He could feel Cindy's hands fall timidly against his wrists, fingers grazing the skin as hot as a humid night. "I need to get home and I need to be there for her, because she'd be there for me if I let her, right?" It was a revelation long-time coming, but it felt even sweeter because of it.

He glanced up at Cindy's face for conformation, only to find tears streaming down her face. Ed paused, blinked, and suddenly white hot panic raced through him faster than he could blink. "Oh my god! Why are we crying? What's wrong? Cindy?"

She sniffled and shook her head from side to side. He tried to reach up and cup her face, wipe the tears away like a good friend would, but she swatted them away and threw herself into his arms. With cautious hands, he patted her back and tensed up when her hand clutched the cloth of his shirt tight enough to tear a hole in it. "Nothing's wrong" she croaked "just- promise me you'll make her happy, Eddy. Promise me."

Ed frowned and wrapped his arms around her, feeling her dig her head into his chest. Her tears were soaking his shirt clean through, but that just meant he'd switch shirts later. "Yeah," he murmured "of course I will. Always."