Don't worry, I haven't abandoned Measure My Endeavors, I just caught up with the episodes recently and had an idea for a Zaya one shot. The timeline in this story is probably different from canon, but I don't actually have a clue what time of the year it is on the show. So just humor me, please. Enjoy:

He had been living with the Matlin's for two weeks before everything changed. Zig had just been falling into a routine, too:wake up, eat breakfast with Maya, desperately ignore try to block out the fact that Maya was more or less avoiding him, walk to school in awkward silence, split up with her at the front steps, attend classes like a good boy (the GPA expectations at the Matlin house were really outrageous, but Zig was trying to do anything he could to thank Mrs. Matlin for saving him from homelessness), meet Maya at the front steps again, walk home in tense silence, do homework at the kitchen counter, retreat to his bedroom, fuck around until dinner, try to pretend that he actually fit in with the clean-cut family as they shared their days with each other, shower, go to bed, and repeat.

So when the Friday night that marked his second complete week as an honorary Matlin deviated from that routine, Zig felt a little dizzy—as if he'd been shoved into a vortex that sucked him downward endlessly.

He had been in his room reading To Kill a Mockingbird for class when the phone started to ring shrilly. Zig already had attention issues, so he rolled on to his side, folding the pillow so it covered both his ears. He was just getting back into Mayella's testimony when Mrs. Matlin popped her head into the room. "Zig, honey, it's for you."

The fact that not too many people knew where Zig was—not to mention that his closest friends either lived in the room across the hall or weren't really the call-to-chat types—coupled with the look of concern on Mrs. Matlin's face made him automatically wary.

Marking his place in the book, Zig gingerly took the phone from Mrs. Matlin. "Hello?" he asked skeptically.

"Ziggy!" His mom's voice sounded thick with tears. "You're okay."

"Yeah, no thanks to you," he snapped harshly. "How did you get this number?"

"I called the school, and they directed me here. You haven't called in so long, oh, Ziggy, I thought something happened to you."

"Something did: you kicked me out."

His mother continued, almost as if she hadn't heard him. "Mr. Simpson mentioned that you've been receiving high marks on all your assignments. And you haven't had detention in a while. You're getting better, yes?"

"Nothing was ever wrong with me, ma," Zig growled with exasperation. "What gives you the right to check up on me anyway?"

"I'm your mother, your legal guardian." She sounded hurt, like she had finally picked up on his surliness. "You're my son."

"Well you really should have thought about that before leaving me on the streets with nothing. I don't want to talk to you. Don't call here again." He stabbed at the end call button before his mom could get another word in. He had the overwhelming urge to throw the phone across the room, but he stopped short when he remembered where he was and who would have to pay for his spurt of anger.

Instead, he hung his head, feeling heavy. He hadn't even realized that he'd started crying until an incredulous voice cut through his fog of rage. "Zig Novak?"

His head snapped up to find a bag-laden Katie. "I-um-what?" Zig stuttered.

"I think I get to ask the questions here," she cocked an eyebrow at him. "This is my room, after all."

"Yeah, uh, sorry about that. I can…leave," he finished, grabbing his book and the phone. In the kitchen, Zig slammed the phone into its cradle with a little more force than necessary.

Maya was at the counter, marking up some sheet music. "Katie's back," she mentioned, cheerier than usual.

"Thanks for the heads up," Zig grumbled, passing her on his way to the window seat. "How long is she back for?" he was dreading the answer.

Katie breezed into the kitchen, then. "It's my Spring Break. What are you doing here?"

"I live here now," Zig stuck out his tongue at her.

"In my room?" Katie crinkled up her nose and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. She sunk into the couch, turned on the TV, and started to flip through channels. "Why?"

She wasn't being malicious or anything, and she did have a right to ask, but Zig wasn't exactly feeling accommodating. "That's none of your business."

"Zig," Maya warned, her face all pouty and indignant. He just shrugged.

"No, that's fine," Katie nodded, her attention fixing on a football game. "Wanna arm wrestle for the room?" she smirked.

Zig couldn't help it, he barked out a laugh. "Nah, it's your room. I can sleep on the couch for a week."

Mrs. Matlin joined them, shuffling into the kitchen from her office. "What did your mom want, Zig?" she asked as she started to pull ingredients from the refrigerator.

Zig's joints locked up and his face flushed. Maya's head snapped up, her face colored with pity and concern. Zig hated that look. "Nothing really," he grumbled. "She was checking up on me."

Mrs. Matlin nodded. "Are you going to try to work things out?"

Zig bit back a sarcastic why, you tired of having me here? Instead he guiltily thumbed at the corner of his book where the cover was peeling. "Not really?"

Mrs. Matlin grinned sympathetically, but she looked a little disappointed as she started to mix the ingredients for cookie dough in a large bowl. "You seem unsure."

"They kicked me out," Zig reminded her, struggling to keep his anger in check. "They gave up on me."

"It sounded to me like your mom was trying to reach out, Zig. Maybe you should give her a chance to explain her side."

Zig deflated. He wished that someone else understood what he was going through, wished someone understood the anger and the pain. No way was he just going to let his mom waltz back into his life like she hadn't totally screwed him over. "I don't…," he sighed and tried again. He really didn't want to snap at Mrs. Matlin. She wasn't the enemy. "I don't think I'm ready to hear it," he admitted.

Katie reached out and patted Zig's knee, not even tearing her eyes away from the game. Mrs. Matlin set her spoon down, focusing her attention on Zig. "That's understandable." She smiled warmly at him and went back to making cookies. Maya's pencil was hovering too far above the paper for her to still be absorbed in her work; she was definitely listening. "You know you're welcome here as long as you need a place," Mrs. Matlin added.

Zig just nodded and opened up his book, more excited than usual to lose himself in a fictional world.

###

Later that night, Zig—dressed in some plaid pajama pants and a homemade WhisperHug t-shirt—carried a comforter, a few extra blankets, and some pillows out to the couch, his new bed for the week. Grumpily, he set to maximizing the couch's comfort.

Just as he had settled in, determined to finish To Kill a Mockingbird so he could have a weekend free of work, Maya padded nervously into the room. "Hey," she greeted, tugging on the hem of her shorts.

"Oh, are you done avoiding me?" Zig asked bitterly.

Maya sat down, cross-legged, on the floor in front of where Zig had set up his mountain of pillows. She started nervously tugging at the carpet. "I wasn't avoiding you."

"Could have fooled me," Zig snapped, sitting up.

"Would you stop being such a brat? I'm trying to talk to you," Maya glared at him.

Zig considered calling her a bratty hypocrite, but just scowled and crossed his arms, waiting.

She took a deep breath, her voice shaking a little as she started. "I was scared, okay? I was scared and I was suffocated. After Cam…killed himself," she willed herself to spit it out, "everyone kept looking at me funny. It was like they were expecting me to become some kind of fragile ice sculpture. Don't look at Maya too long, she might melt. I hated the way people tiptoed all around me."

What's your point?" Zig asked softly when she didn't continue. Part of his detested the way adrenalin started pumping through his veins, all excited that Maya was finally letting him back in. Maybe.

Maya gulped, getting off the floor and sitting next to Zig on the couch. "When I met Miles, it was like I didn't have to be the girl with the dead boyfriend. He wasn't going to question me every time something new happened. He didn't have to worry at every point in our relationship whether I was really ready or if I still wasn't over Cam. And I craved that. God, it felt so good to be baggage-less Maya again."

Zig opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Maya held up her hand, silencing him.

"And part of me liked that nothing was at stake. Sure, Miles is attractive, and he's fun and exciting, but at the time I wasn't and didn't want to be serious about him." She shrugged, pulling the comforter over her lap. "I knew that, with you, everything would be important."

"I thought you hated me," Zig pointed out, his eyebrows pulling together.

"I'm sorry." Maya met his gaze, remorse deep-set in her crystalline blue eyes. Zig nodded, looking away. They were silent for an immeasurable amount of time. Finally, Maya spoke up again. "You never told why your parents kicked you out."

"You never asked."

Maya hung her head, realizing he was right. "Well, I'm asking now."

Zig nostrils flared and he gripped his portion of the blanket. "It's kind of a long story."

"I told you mine," Maya pointed out, cocking her eyebrow at him.

"Alright, fine. After Cam's death, I was angry." Maya did a double take, surprised by the strange start. "I was angry at Cam for doing that, for leaving you so sad and messed. I was angry that I didn't know what to do for you. And I stayed angry. Summer started, and I was angry at you for brushing me off every time I tried to talk to you. I mean, I get it now, why you did, but at the time I was pissed that you didn't seem to care enough to ask me how I was doing. I was pissed at my parents because they didn't know how to help me, didn't have the money to help me, and they just kept acting like I was some kind of wild animal. But most of all, I was pissed at myself. I was pissed that I blamed myself for Cam's death and didn't know how to forgive myself." Zig's voice broke and he turned his face away from Maya so she wouldn't have to see him cry. "I was pissed that I didn't know how to stop being so angry."

"So what happened?" Maya whispered, her hand finding his under the covers. He gripped tight, squeezing the blood right out of her fingers.

"I started doing really stupid things like not coming home at night. I would go out and pick fights with people. I was a mess, Maya. I-I still am." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Anyway, one night, my dad and I got into it. I don't know where it came from, but all of a sudden I was punching him—in the face, in the gut, anywhere I could reach. And by the time my mom pulled me off of him, I had split his lip and given him a bloody nose." Zig's voice was thick with regret. "He looked me right in the eye and told me to never come back. He told me he hated me. And my mom just stood there, saying nothing, not even able to look me in the eye. They gave up on me, both of them. Instead of helping me, they just washed their hands of me."

Maya had started crying, too, realizing the part she had played in Zig's down spiral. She had abandoned him when he had needed her most. "I'm going to help you get better, Zig. Mom and Dad, too. We're here for you."

Her voice was so soft and sweet, Zig couldn't help himself anymore. He let his head drop onto her shoulder, sobbing bitterly. Maya wrapped her thin, tiny arms around him, pulling him as close as she could. Soothingly, she rubbed his back as he cried himself dry, completely surrendering to his anger and pain.

When he finally stopped, Maya continued to hold him, and, eventually, he wrapped his arms around her, too, so they were supporting each other. "Will you stay with me tonight?" he finally asked.

Maya squeezed him a little tighter. "Mom would be mad." She pointed out, but it didn't sound like a no.

"We'll just tell her the truth. Nothing hanky-panky related happened."

"But that would have to mean that nothing could happen," Maya pointed out, blushing.

Zig pulled away so he could look her in the face and waggled his eyebrows. Even though his face was all red, tear tracks visible on his cheeks, he made Maya's heart beat out an irregular pattern.

"We can't!" she protested, shoving his shoulder playfully.

He laughed. "Fine. We'll be good. But I can only control myself for so long," he pouted.

"Whatever, Zigmund."

They settled into a horizontal position, a snug fit. Maya settled her head on his chest, sighing happily as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. Some of her adorably frizzy hair poked him in the face, and he smoothed it down before placing a light kiss on top of her head. "I love you, Maya."

She grinned, wondering if it was something about the couch that made the guys in her life super affectionate. At least, this time, the words felt like a promise, not just a shot in the dark. "I love you, too, Zig."

###

When the morning came, Mrs. Matlin wasn't even mad to find the two cozy and entwined, snoring lightly, on the couch. She knew it was a long time coming, and decided to let them have their moment before they discussed the new ground rules.