Soul dropped the phone and collapsed on the sofa as his brothers' words sunk in. They did more than sink in. Sinking implied something gentle and slow. These words burned their way in, burned and scarred and cut their way into his soul. He barely registered Maka's cry of alarm, her brief conversation with Wes. He thought she might be trying to talk to him but all he could hear was the roar of his brothers' voice in his ears.

"Granny's dead" circled around his head as he drowned in a whirlpool of despair and grief. He felt Maka's arms around him, heard her murmur soothing noises in his ear, felt her stroke his hair and finally, belatedly felt his tears drip down his cheeks. He drew in a shaking breath and returned Maka's embrace.

He grabbed her roughly, desperately, like a drowning man grabs a life ring. Because he was drowning. And she was his life ring. She was always his salvation.

Maka held her partner as he cried. She knew he needed her after such terrible news. Souls' grandmother had been the only family he actually loved – he liked one of his aunts and a few cousins and he could get on with Wes well enough, but there was a lot of jealousy and resentment there still.

Maka held him, and stroked his hair and murmured soothing words in his ear as he wept, for some indeterminate length of time. She felt his wavelength calm, felt him come back to himself as the first wind of grief blew out.
"Wes said the funeral's on Saturday." She said in his ear quietly "Do you want to go?"

Did he want to go? Well that was certainly a loaded question. He had to go, to say goodbye to his grandmother. But his parents would probably be there, and he didn't want to see them.
What if he cried again? It was one thing to cry in front of Maka, who would understand so completely and never tell anyone, but it was entirely another thing to cry in front of his stupid, snobby, stuck up family. What if his parents tried to talk him into coming home again? He'd thrown away the letters and refused to answer their summons back to the Evans estate, but what if they tried to pounce on him while he was weak? What if-

He silenced the hurricane inside his head. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. His grandmother, his wonderful, warm, loving grandmother was dead. That mattered. The funeral would be a chance to say goodbye. Saying goodbye properly mattered.

"I have to" he said hoarsely. "Will- will you go with me?"
"If you want me to be there, I'll go. You know I will."
"I think I might need you there" he muttered into her hair as he struggled to talk past the lump in his throat.
"Then I'll go. I'm always here for you Soul. You know that."

Soul held her close again, clinging to those words and the support behind them. He let her go and stood up. Maka looked so damn worried about him and her shirt was creased from where he'd grabbed her as his anchor.

"I'm going for a drive. I need- I need some space."
She smiled gently, standing as well.
"Sure. Dinner's at six."
Soul watched his partner walk towards the kitchen and thanked whatever God there was that she was there. He'd never met anyone who understood him so completely. He was going to need her on Saturday. Hell, he'd probably need therapy after Saturday.