You were sitting on the practice room floor when Soul shuffled in, hoodie sleeves covering his hands, eyes distant like he was thinking about seventeen different things at once. Normal. Just Soul being Soul. But today, he didn’t sit next to you. He stood there…hovering.

“Hey,” you said softly. “You good?”

He nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again. So—no.

“What happened?”

He hesitated, tugging at his hoodie string. “Someone said I’m…weird.”

Your eyebrows rose. “Soul, you are weird.” He blinked, visibly offended.

“But,” you continued before he spiraled, “it’s the good kind. The cute, harmless, ‘I say random stuff and everyone loves me for it’ kind.”

His shoulders relaxed a little, but he still looked bothered. “They said it like… I’m too much. That I make things awkward.”