AN: Here's a SoMa heavy chapter for you all! Thanks Proma and Bendandcurl for betaing.

The Star Frat party's energy had started to wane shortly after Soul's group departed and left him with Blake. He had spent the next couple hours losing at beer pong to Tsubaki and Blake and, eventually, hiding upstairs with Tsu to avoid the frat brothers.

The first thing Soul did when he woozily roused from sleep at 11 a.m. on November 1st was to roll over and fumble for his phone. He'd left his contacts in when he went to sleep, and his eyes stung and watered as he squinted at the screen. The last vague memory percolating in the back of Soul's mind was the urge to stay awake until he confirmed that Maka had made it home okay. Despite his intentions, he had just fallen asleep like the lump he was.

He must have passed out shortly after sending her a single, embarrassing message.

Soul (1:12 am): lemme knwo u homr

Maka (8:03 am): Did you drink star vat? Ew.

Did he?

Soul mustered the brainpower to type out an invitation to lunch or brunch or whatever mealtime it was. Maka quickly replied that she 'had other plans,' and Soul's stomach threatened to turn itself inside out.

He should ask Kid how their little walk home went. Maybe they bantered the whole way about Oscar Wilde and school. Maybe they didn't say anything the entire time and just moved in silence. Maybe Maka's romantic little dreams came true. Maybe they didn't. The curiosity would have consumed him alive had Soul not already felt too queasy and sleepy to think.

Sleeping away Sunday and pretending he didn't have homework was his ideal end to the weekend, anyway.

In the coming days, Maka seemed to make a concerted effort to slide off Soul's radar. In her defense, the timing sucked; the classes that everyone tried so hard to forget about around Halloween came back with a vengeance, and the campus-wide scramble not to flunk out halfway through the semester ate up everyone's social calendars. Especially hers. Maka was studious to a fault, and he didn't want to intrude on her cram sessions.

But still, Soul felt her absence more keenly than he liked to admit. On the Thursday after Halloween, he looked out for Maka by the English building after leaving Spanish Cinema. No dice.

At first this seemed like the perfect opportunity to hang out with Patty after class, but even that slipped through his fingers for a more embarrassing reason. Patty liked to skip and rush from place to place. The only way to keep pace with her was to jog, and running with a backpack on was even more undignified than just simply running. If Soul didn't have his pride, what did he have?

Pride wasn't actually his greatest sin. Soul had become greedy. For so long he had been able to sustain himself on the friendship of his roommates, but when his social circle doubled, his quota of human interaction did as well. Now he couldn't help but scan the area for a friendly face like a puppy with abandonment issues every time he ventured through campus. Damn it.

He had almost crossed the academic quad when he spotted someone he didn't expect-Tsubaki, waiting patiently outside the Office of Disability Services.

Well, Maka was giving him the cold shoulder, and Patty walked too fast for his slow ass to catch up. Nothing weird about dropping by to chat with Tsu.

She noticed him coming over her shoulder, and waited until he made it across the green. Soul mentally groped for a good conversation starter that wasn't merely stating the obvious.

"Hey, Tsubaki. You waiting for someone?" he finally settled upon.

"Blake is taking his anatomy exam," Tsubaki explained. "He should be finishing up soon, though."

"Think he'll do okay?"

"Oh, I'm sure he will. It's not in Blake's character to do anything less than his best. He just needs to do it at his own pace. So," Tsubaki asked with cheer. "Did you work everything out with Maka? After the party?"

"Work what out?" he said, his mouth suddenly completely dry.

"Your gut feeling about her crush with Kid. Did you get a chance to tell her your doubts?"

The sweat glands in his armpits responded before Soul's mind or voice had a chance. "How would you know about that?" Hell, he didn't even know about that.

"You told me!" Tsubaki then gave him a gentle, if not pitying smile. "Oh, right. You might not remember, but you lost to Black Star at beer pong without making a single cup. It was either take a naked lap around the house or drink a wounded soldier. Well, a few of them."

A wounded soldier was, in Star Frat speak, an abandoned, half-finished drink; usually flat beer or watery jungle juice. But it could honestly be anything. His nauseousness after the big Star Frat party suddenly made way more sense, and he just might puke in front of the Office of Disability Services to purge that wounded soldier from his system.

"You couldn't stop talking about her," Tsubaki recalled with a small laugh. "I've never heard you talk so much in my life."

This news was even worse than learning that he ingested a wounded soldier. Soul was glad he was so practiced in controlling his tone and expression. "Seriously? Weird. What did I even say?"

"A lot of things. But I think the most important part was that we agreed that while you can't control your friends' actions, it's important to look out for them just in case they need you." Tsubaki was most likely sitting on a gold mine of blackmail material, and she was just letting it go. Soul opened his mouth to tell her that she was a goddamn saint, but paused when he saw her frown. "Honestly, that's something I wanted to talk to you about," she said. "You see, there's something about Blake. I haven't seen him take his prescription at his regular time lately, and I'm really afraid that White Star guy is-"

She stopped speaking and her face became a blank mask. In an instant, her concern was replaced with joy, and she waved over Soul's shoulder. Blake had emerged from the Office, chatting amiably to a reedy student with choppy pink hair walking beside him. While Soul couldn't make out anything from the pink-haired student, he could clearly hear every loud word that escaped Blake's mouth.

"'Course you did good," Blake said. His voice soared over the quad with ease. "You're Cronye West. You're top tier. Plus you sat next to me, and my residual greatness bleeds over into other people. Anyways, I'll see ya back here for finals week."

Blake set out to meet Tsubaki, and 'Cronye West' headed towards the bike rack. They kneeled to remove a lock from a large, intimidating bike that Soul recognized instantly-the Ragnarok 300 in black blood. One of the best mountain bikes on the market. Soul wanted to compliment the student's sweet ride, but all five of his senses were immediately overwhelmed by everything Blake as he wrapped him and Tsubaki in a bear hug.

"Sorry for making you wait up. I had to drop a deuce," Blake said as he let them back down again.

There was a reason they didn't hug often. Free from the pressure of Blake's mutant arms, Soul stooped over and massaged his aching back. Tsubaki, accustomed to Blake's strength, snapped back to her full height like a young tree sapling.

"We didn't wait very long!" Tsubaki assured him. "How do you think you did on your exam?"

"Terrible. Eh. Fantastic. All of the above."

"Hmmmmm, fantastic!"

Blake broke into a wide grin. "Then that's how I did. Come on, let's get some grub. They didn't give me a snack break this time."

"You're not supposed to have a snack break in the middle of a test."

"Yeah, yeah. Last time I convinced Ms. Marie to give me one, but today I had that Medusa lady as my proctor. Her kid is pretty cool though."

Soul was still interested in hearing what Tsubaki had to say about White Star and Blake's prescription. Unfortunately, it looked like that fleeting moment where she might have confided in him had been punted off the field by her boisterous boyfriend.

"Yo Soul, you coming too?"

Soul opened his mouth to answer in the affirmative, but then he saw Maka walking past, eyes trained to the side walk. Finally, she had appeared.

"I'll catch you two later," Soul said. He caught Tsubaki's eyes, a silent reassurance that they would continue their conversation later, too. She gave him a gentle smile-message received.

Maka was wrapped up when he caught up to her-wrapped up in her jacket, her thoughts, her worries. Soul picked up his pace until he settled beside her, walking in-step, as if they had been walking together all along.

Maybe it was because their friendship sang and harmonized like a tenor and soprano that Maka felt no need to say hello or ask Soul how he'd been. She just knew. "I need to pull an all-nighter," she said in a measured voice. "Can I study at your place?"

This was the first time Maka had ever asked specifically to study in Soul's dorm. When she didn't offer an explanation why her own apartment wouldn't do, he swallowed his urge to ask. Instead, he answered that it would be no trouble at all.

He mentioned that Kid was spending the night at his father's house, just in case, and Maka appeared ambivalent to the information. She nodded approvingly when she learned Blake was probably going to spend the night at Tsubaki's. Soul didn't say it aloud, but he hoped she might resolve whatever issue she had with White Star behind closed doors.

No trouble at all.

Night was falling when Maka revealed what Soul had suspected all along; this all-nighter was just a pretense.

"I have a favor to ask," Maka said with utter seriousness. She was sitting on his dorm room floor, textbook splayed open in her lap. Her fingers drummed on its pages expectantly. "But you have to promise that you won't say no until after I finish asking you."

This did not bode well.

"Alright, shoot," Soul said. He was on the floor himself, reaching underneath his bed to find his own textbook, buried somewhere in the clutter and darkness. As he searched blindly through discarded clothes and forgotten papers, he wondered what on earth Maka wanted from him. Granted, he would probably submit to any demand she made of him. They were partners now, after all. She helped him out, he helped her out; reciprocity at its finest. It would have to be a pretty damn unreasonable request for him to say-

"I've decided it's time to lose my virginity."

Soul jerked upward, slamming his skull into his bed's beams. He struggled out of the crawlspace and sat up, rubbing his head rapidly before looking back at his friend.

He opened his mouth to reply-to ask questions, demand answers-but she beat him to the punch. "You said you were going to hear me out!" Maka somehow had the gall to sound annoyed with him. "Look, I know virginity is a stupid concept. And I know that it's pretty pathetic to ask a friend for sexual favors. But I've thought it over and made up my mind, and if I'm going to do this I'd rather it be with someone I trust rather than a rando. So, will you do this favor for me? I'll do at least ten for you!"

This was unlike her. Did Maka suffer exam-induced amnesia or something? Was she not mentally present when he spent the last two months helping her cozy up to his roommate? Snooping through Kid's stuff, attending that clusterfuck of a Halloween party-did she conveniently forgetall that?

"Well?" Maka asked impatiently. He realized he had been looking at her with baffled eyes and a slack jaw.

"I think you're stretching the definition of 'favor,'" Soul said.

As if to further prove her resolve and sincerity, Maka wordlessly unzipped her backpack and retrieved a bright yellow box. Soul knew what it was before she tossed it to him-Trojans, 18 Pack.

"Prepared aren't ya," he murmured. He turned the box over in his hands, stunned.

It was a lot of condoms for what he presumed to be a one night stand. Something inside Soul stirred, but he wasn't certain if it was desire or dread. She was being so forward, so confident that this was going to happen, but there had been literally zero lead-up to this favor of hers. No flirting, no nothing. Soul had to wonder what it was she really wanted, and why she had suddenly forgotten about her rabid crush on Kid and decided to set her sights on him instead. Maka didn't strike him as the type to relieve her frustration with meaningless sex, certainly not with "no-good, lazy-ass trust fund babies." Her words, not his.

Soul tore his eyes away from the box in his hand. "So when were you thinking we do this?" Maka pressed her lips into a fine line and stared at him. "Tonight?" Now she was fidgeting with her pigtails, possibly attempting to appear demure or sexy. "Now? What the fuck?"

She dropped the act, and threw her textbook at him with surprising force. At this point in their friendship, he was able to dodge it with ease by flopping to the right. "I can't really waste time if I'm going to actually study tonight and be in bed by eleven. Are we going to do it or not?"

"Well, I dunno Maka," Soul said, voice rising. "I'm sorta feeling the opposite of seduced right now!"

A shrill noise rumbled in Maka's throat. "Soul Evans, you are impossible!" She scrunched up her nose and shot him a look of pure contempt. "If you're going to be that way, fine. Just give me a straight answer so we can just for-"

"Sure." Soul's ability to speak before he thought often saved his ass in tight, messy situations. This was not one of those times. Maka blinked at him, slowly comprehending, and he scrambled to fix his stupid mouth's mistake. "-ly we should talk about this for a few minutes first? Shit Maka, you haven't talked to me in a week. Maybe we shouldn't rush into things."

"But I do want to rush into things," she replied with heated cheeks. "I want to get this over with as soon as possible. Wham, bam, done."

"You make it sound like you're getting a mole removed or something," Soul grumbled, but despite his combative tone he was already turning the possibility of sleeping with Maka over in his head. It wasn't ideal, but is also wasn't unideal. In fact, now that he was actually considering it as a concrete this-might-happen-to-me-in-twenty-minutes thing, he was pretty into it.

But Soul also found himself plagued with questions that just didn't sit well with him. When a girl said she wanted you, did it matter if you found her reasons dubious at best? Even if she was a friend asking for a special, one-time sexual favor? Even if it was all her idea? And Kid-what if she actually did manage to convince Kid to date her one day? And what if Soul eventually succeeded in getting with Patty? Wouldn't a sexual encounter between him and Maka complicate those things down the road?

Asking himself these questions was a hollow endeavor. It would change everything. He'd never be able to look Kid or Patty in the eye. Hell, he might not even be able to look Maka in the eye. Maybe it was the squishy sap hiding beneath his thick skin of sarcasm and self-loathing, but Soul imagined his first sexual experience going differently. Organically. Romantically. Not something that he was ordered to do, not something that the other party viewed as a favor.

Most confusing of all, Soul knew for a fact he was entirely down to do this thing, tonight, in his apartment, with her. Because he wanted to. He didn't allow himself to dwell too long on the hows or whys of this impulse, but by God did he want to.

It was a strange dissonance to be both buried in anxiety and intensely eager to accept his fate. Soul Evans was contradiction incarnate, so he wore it well.

"I'm used to aiming way higher when it comes to girls," Soul said with a nonchalance he hoped was convincing. "But I'm willing to lower my standards for a friend. Hey, maybe I'll get a tax deduction for this."

Maka snorted. "Oh please, I'm the best catch you're ever gonna get."

"Actually, I don't think I wanna swap spit with someone who gives me so much lip."

In a moment, Maka was back on the offensive. "Hey, no take backs!"

Soul shot her another quizzical, open-mouthed look, partly because he could not believe she had just invoked the Law of No Take Backs to justifythis, but also because she was so adamantly in favor of this insane idea.

Whatever.

Well, if they were going to get this show on the road, Soul had better kiss her. Or something. That ought to get things going with little complications. He could feel his heart dully thud in his chest as he swallowed and began to crawl towards her.

"Whoah, whoah whoah," Maka said, shrinking backwards. "What, um, what are you doing?"

"Trying to kiss you," he said plainly mid-crawl. Sensing her alarm, Soul shifted back onto his haunches. "I figured that's where we'd start, if that's okay."

Maka leaned further away as she considered this. "Could you not not lurk towards me when you do that?"

"I don't lurk."

"True, it's not lurking. You're basically slithering."

A low growl bubbled at the back of Soul's throat. "Okay, you initiate it then. This was all your idea." He crossed his arms and legs and closed his eyes. "Whenever you're ready," he said before sticking out his lips.

He waited, eyes closed, and willed his heartbeat to slow. It was just kissing. It didn't matter and it didn't mean anything. It'd happen, he would crack a dumb joke, she would back out of this sex scheme, and then it would be over. Best case scenario. But what was taking her so long? There had only been a few feet between them when he closed his eyes. Thinking that Maka might have backed out already, he decided to wait three seconds before opening his eyes.

Soul should not have waited.

A sharp impact smacked into his face and sent him reeling backwards. Soul let fly several choice curse words as pain flamed across his nose and his upper lip throbbed. Did she punch him?

Soul rolled over and cracked an eye open. Maka was also sprawled on the ground, clutching her own face and groaning.

She didn't try to sucker punch him. She had tried to kiss him. And missed. Hard.

He sat up, and the light trickle of liquid on his lip sent his hands clamoring back to his nose.

"Dammit, my nose is bleeding," he said aloud.

"Well, my lip is busted," Maka replied. "I'll get us something."

She scrambled to her feet and searched Soul's desk for a box of tissues, and Soul plugged his nose to curb the flow of blood. "So," he said in a nasal voice. "You didn't mention any physical risks when you asked me for this favor."

Maka ripped half a dozen tissues from the box with frustrated flourish. "I got nervous! I'm sorry!"

With a tissue pressed to his nose, Soul listened as Maka launched into a long-winded apology. That kiss gone wrong was still sending shooting pains up his face, and as if smacking skulls wasn't bad enough, her voice was starting to give him a headache, too.

"Maka, we aren't getting anywhere," Soul said.

He watched Maka start tapping her lips with the tips of her fingers, muttering away to herself as she thought of what to do. The movement of her fingers and mouth was mesmerizing. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all, if she really wanted to. In fact, he had an idea that might help this whole thing along…

As if she could sense the direction his thoughts had taken, Maka snapped her fingers, eyes alight with inspiration. "I know what will help!" Maka exclaimed. Their eyes met and they blurted out their thoughts at the same time.

"Mood lighting!"

"Alcohol!"

A few minutes later, Soul carefully poured Fireball Whiskey into two shot glasses, straining to see in the dimmed light. His nose stopped leaking blood, and her swollen lip had already begun to deflate. He could hear Maka buzzing behind him, impatiently shifting her weight between her feet.

"Did you know that stuff was recalled in Europe for being literal poison?" she said to him.

Soul rolled his eyes and handed her a shot glass, reminding her that this was her idea, this was all he had, and if she didn't want any, she didn't have to drink it. Maka pursed her lips, and they clinked glasses before going bottoms up and downing the shots in one smooth gulp. The violent cinnamon flavor of the whiskey burned all the way down without mercy, and the noxious aftertaste stung Soul's mouth. At least it dulled his pounding headache. Maka shuddered as the liquid slid down her throat and settled in her stomach, but she stubbornly held out her glass for more. They ended up taking three shots each, which Soul figured was just enough to loosen them up so they could finally do the nasty.

Slightly lightheaded from the strongly flavored alcohol, they lay down on their backs on the carpeted floor side by side. Maka had taken out her pigtails, and her hair fanned out around her head like a feathery halo.

"When the buzz kicks in," Maka said quietly, staring at the ceiling. "We're going to actually do it."

"Right."

"I mean it, no playing around."

"Got it."

"The two of us, together, it's happening."

"Swear to god, the more you talk, the less I want to screw you."

"Fuck you."

"Don't get ahead of yourself."

As much bravado as Soul forced into his banter, he felt even less ready and willing to do the sex post-Fireball. The alcohol was supposed to make this easier, but instead it had clouded his brain with a million and one doubts. Hell, he didn't even have the barest hint of an erection, and that was supposed to be the easiest part.

There was an ingredient to this they were missing.

It came to him with the suddenness of a summer rain. "Maybe music is what we need," Soul suggested. He sat up, invigorated by the idea. "I'll make a playlist and then we can get started. Just give me fifteen minutes." Why hadn't he thought of this before? They had some drinks, they had the lighting, but it was the music that would really set the mood. He could probably hop on his laptop and whip up some baby-making tunes no problem.

"You take fifteen hours to make playlists," Maka groaned. She rolled over and reached under his bed. "We should just use one that's pre-made." She pulled out a small box full of CDs, a very familiar box.

Once Soul spun around to see Maka sifting through his box of musical love letters, the sense of deja vu was overwhelming. Had it really been only three months since she first snuck into his room, three months since this insane gambit started? Except on that fateful night, she had been examining them so he could prove just how similarly screwed they were when it came to romance. Tonight, she was picking out the soundtrack for her sexual debut. Their sexual debut. She reached for the CD labeled "Romantic Night In," and he began to taste bile on the back of his tongue.

"Not those," Soul said, knocking the CD out of her hand and pulling the box away from her. His movements were so quick and sharp that Maka flinched in confusion. "Those-they aren't for this."

"Don't you want someone to listen to them?" Maka asked with a pointed look. She yanked the box back in her direction.

"Actually, I don't," Soul said, his voice tight. He tugged at the box again, but Maka's grip remained firm.

"You put all this work into burning these things-" Another yank. "-and then they just collect dust under your bed."

He set his jaw and pulled the box back his way with a little more fervor. "This isn't why-"

Yank! "At least I can appreciate them."

"They're not for you to appreciate!"

Mustering all his strength, Soul ripped the box straight out of Maka's hands with so much force that he lost his balance and rolled onto his back. The sound of plastic clattering filled the room as CDs spilled out of the box and scattered across the floor. Soul shifted back onto his knees to gather them up, his cheeks burning. He knew he had made a lot of dumb mixtapes for Patty, but he didn't really realize the sheer quantity of CDs until they were splayed all over his room, cheesy titles exposed for the world to see.

It was there, bent over the evidence his greatest secret, that Soul noticed the murkiness of his thoughts, the wobbliness of his limbs. Three shots of fireball whiskey were finally taking their toll. Which might explain why his voice had been so sharp and coarse over something so stupid.

"I'm sorry," Maka said, stung. Gut-churning guilt or no, Soul didn't have the energy or patience to look at her. "I just thought-you're obviously just humoring me. I was just trying to help."

Soul wanted to console her somehow, but he wasn't sure where to begin. It wasn't that he couldn't find Maka attractive. He just refused to mixPatty stuff with Maka stuff. He couldn't listen to a Patty CD while he was with Maka-that would be all kinds of wrong. Uncomfortable boundaries were being crossed. No, he needed a Maka CD. A completely separate playlist.

"We should just forget this," Maka said. She lay onto her back again and stared at the ceiling, her pigtails fanning out at the sides of her head like angel wings. "I should have realized it wasn't as easy as just asking someone to have sex. I shouldn't have asked this of you."

Soul laid down beside her. He agreed on that point; his penis had long since retreated into its shell, and it was honestly a relief. But still, to disappoint Maka left him hollow. She wanted to do this for a reason, and even if that reason didn't have anything to do with liking him as more than a friend, it was still valid. You don't ask a friend to take your virginity for nothing.

"Did I ever tell you about my parents?"

Her voice was a brittle twig ready to snap. "I don't think so," Soul answered. "You don't have to," he added as an afterthought. He sort of did want to know about them, about whether or not her professor papa's reputation as a sleaze was as accurate as her reputation as a Palmtop Tiger, but only if she was cool with it.

"No, no, I want to," Maka said. She took a deep breath. "You know how when you're a kid, all you want is to see the world? Experience everything life has to offer? I think my parents have always wanted that, but they never got it. Not until they could get rid of each other. And me."

"I doubt that's true," Soul said automatically.

"It is though! My mom got knocked up in her final months of high school, and Mama and Papa had to put off college for three years to take care of me. They were tethered down almost overnight. Even when I was a kid, I could tell they were itching for a reason to leave. To get their lives back." Her voice betrayed no emotion. This was something she had thought about a lot, something she had spent time learning to discuss aloud with a toneless voice. Soul wasn't sure if that meant she had accepted her family's dysfunction or if she had just buried the resentment deep. "Papa's solution was to become a lecherous creep and provoke my Mama to divorce. Mama just waited until I graduated high school and made Death City my permanent residence. Now they've both got what they've always wanted."

They stared at the ceiling, quiet. A thousand consolations settled at the tip of Soul's tongue, yet he couldn't figure out which one he should say. The unsaid was a heavy burden that pushed his shoulders and spine into the floorboard, pinned like an ant. Or maybe tethered like a bird. Like Maka's parents.

It probably wasn't his place to ask, but to hell with it. "What is it that you want?"

"Soul." She spoke his name like a bold declaration, and he suppressed a shiver. "I didn't-I didn't just become friends with you because I liked your roommate," Maka admitted. Though he couldn't see her face, Soul could feel her words slowly falling upon him like autumn leaves. "I actually wanted to get to know you because I thought you were a cool person."

A dark blush consumed Soul's face, burning bright on his ears and crawling down his neck.

"Making friends is something I've never been good at. Part of it is my parents' fault, but it's mine, too. But once we started hanging out it was just so easy. And I-" Her voice began to crack. "I just wanted to know what it was like to be wanted by someone, at least for a while. You're the only person I trusted enough to ask. I'm such a goddamned mess."

Soul slowly rolled to the side so he could look at her. Alcohol had let her deepest insecurities loose.

"Yeah you are," he agreed with a crooked smile. "But you're my mess, so it's cool."

When she didn't reply, he scooted towards her until they were lying side by side. They didn't look at each other, just stared up at the ceiling fan's languid movement. The constant, slow revolution soothed his nerves, and he swallowed.

"What did I say when you first came into my apartment back in August?" Soul finally said, turning to look at her. Maka rolled her head towards him, staring him in the face. "I'm talking about that time you tried to give me a concussion over a stupid love letter, remember?" She nodded wordlessly and Soul continued. "I said you didn't have anything to be ashamed of. That's still true."

She pursed her lips and then rolled back onto her back. "I haven't told you everything," Maka stated. "I...about when I walked home with Kid."

Soul's breath hitched.

"I did it," Maka said flatly. "I told him. I confessed."

The way they were lying on the ground, their hands brushed together. The patch of Soul's skin where they made contact tingled. "So what did he say?" Soul finally asked, though he could tell where this was going.

Maka released a dry laugh. "He let me down easy. I think. It was hard to tell, being rejected and everything."

He had predicted such a reaction a while ago, but he still swore. "Shit, I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

"No, I really am. It takes a lot of guts to tell someone you like them after so long." Despite remaining on the floor, Soul could tell from Maka's profile that her forehead was scrunched into a frown. Fuck it. "You know what, I'm proud of you. This is huge. No more Mrs. Meek Maka. Now all the cards are on the table and you can move forward."

"How can I move forward when I haven't made any progress?"

There it was again, Maka's fascination with 'progress.' For such an empty sounding word, it certainly raised many troubling questions about how Maka viewed her relationships.

"But you have! I've been saying it from the start. Some people literally put their feelings in a box and hide them under their bed. You actually did something about yours. And that is an accomplishment worth celebrating."

Her response was dismissive and tinged with hurt. "That speech is the equivalent of a participation trophy. I don't want to settle. I want to have the real deal, a real love. And not only is finding someone who can be your friend and love at the same time impossible, but I picked the wrong guy."

"You almost slept with the wrong guy, too," Soul added. The joke didn't land, and Maka grew quiet.

Blurting shit out never served Soul well. He carefully considered his words. "I feel like when you meet that person that you just click with, the possibility of being friends, partners, and being in love is very real," he said. "It's one of the rare situations in life where you can have your cake and eat it too. You find all of those things in one person."

"But where-"

"I dunno, Maka. Not yet. But I'd like to think that all of my fuck ups are bringing me one step closer to finding out. Don't you?"

That night, Maka slept on Soul's bed while he crashed on the couch in the dorm common room. He stole one of Kid's extra toothbrushes-Dean Theodore Kidman didn't use the same toothbrush for longer than two months-and grabbed one of his own old t-shirts so Maka could be somewhat comfortable. They agreed that all talk of sexual shenanigans was postponed until further notice, yet their conversation continued through grazing touches, brief looks. The condom box was stowed under his bed alongside all of his other secrets.

Sleep did not come willingly. Long after Soul assumed Maka had already fallen into a deep slumber, he stared at the ceiling, wide awake, mind replaying the shape of Maka's mouth when she uttered the word cool.

Of course he slept in and missed her leaving for class Friday morning. Soul believed Maka might want some space after their deeply personal conversation, so rather than seek her out he shot Maka another series of texts. This time, he was dead sober.

Soul (11:45 a.m.): i hope i dont make it weird for you to share things with me

Soul (11:45 a.m.): you know im already a sap, i eat that shit up!

Soul (11:46 a.m.): just a thought

Soul (11:46 a.m.): no matter what, im the one person that'll always hear you out