"That's an interesting set of scars." Kara, the assistant to the Bridge's resident tattoo artist and a Supergirl look-alike in more than just her name, raises a needle up to my arm. "What's the story behind them?"

I look at Gabe, who's sitting in the seat next to mine, his shirt off just like mine, holding a mirror so he can examine his freshly-inked upper arm properly. "Should I tell her?"

Gabe chuckles. "No way. She wouldn't believe you anyway."

"'Cause I'm a cheeky bastard, right?"

"You've been learning."

I turn to Kara. "Nope. Sorry. Can't tell you. State secret."

"That's a shame," she says, loading the machine with black ink. "But you're entitled to your privacy."

She sticks the needle into the skin on my arm. It hurts, but not nearly as much as I thought it would. It actually hurts about as much as cutting my arm - which I just did two days ago, along with Gabe, for our birthday tradition.

Definitely non-traditional for us, however, is the present to which we're treating ourselves today. Going along with the demonic custom of getting inked at seventeen (like Paul Smythe did, despite not being a demon), we decided to get matching tattoos to symbolize our unique dual natures - an angel with demonic powers, and a demon with angelic powers. Gabe and I have always wanted to get inked, and only now have we come up with this idea for what to get. As unfortunate as our parentage is, there's really no getting around who and what we are, so we figure we should really own it.

So today, we're combining the Heaven and Hell symbols that appear on the floors of the Bridge into a single symbol - the spiky black cross, with the rounded triangle connecting the top three points. The only difference is that we've chosen to re-color the Hell symbol blue, in honor of our water elemental. These tats stretch about six inches down our right arms from our shoulders, and if I figure it correctly, only the very bottom should be visible below the ends of our shirtsleeves.

About the only concession we'd made, on Kara's advice, was our decision to get the tats on our arms instead of our chests like we'd originally wanted. She'd suggested that we do the arms instead because the skin there was less thin, and therefore it would be less painful. Unlike, say, Tobias Eaton, neither Gabe nor I is a borderline masochist, so we'd decided to go along with the idea. And besides, we didn't realize until later that having a cross tattoo on the chest was something Justin Bieber did, and therefore it's something to be avoided at all costs.

And yes, we're getting these tats without parental permission. In Hell, you don't need it if you're over seventeen anyway.

An hour later, I'm done. Kara gives us the aftercare instructions - warning us not to unwrap the bandages for twelve hours, then not to get the tattoos wet for twelve hours after that, that sort of thing. "So no water, no spilling your coffee, and if you feel the urge to jerk off, try to land your loads anywhere but there. Capisce?"

"Why're you looking at me when you say that?" I ask.

"I dunno...you kinda strike me as the sort of guy who'd do that," Kara says. "What can I say?"

"He's the jerk-off, not me," I say, pointing to Gabe.

"Hey, screw you, candy-ass!" Gabe yells, shoving me in the chest.

"And don't be doing any of that, either," Kara deadpans, undoing her ponytail. "Especially not around the arms. That's another surefire way to screw up your new ink."

"Got it," I say, grabbing my T-shirt and hoodie and darting out the door before Gabe can get another jab in.

But I still manage to bump into another sentient being anyway - in this case, none other than Gideon. He trips backwards as we run into each other and also nearly knocks over Juliet, who's standing next to him.

"Shit, I'm sorry!" I say.

"Hey, don't worry about it." Now that he's been on testosterone for the last month or so, his voice has changed. It's still higher than mine or Gabe's, but it keeps getting lower every week. And, even better, he's started growing facial hair. Now Marco, with whom he's rooming, is threatening to teach him to shave.

"It's all right, Alex," Juliet says. "Nothing wrong with a bit of clumsiness." She gives me a thumbs-up, then blows me a kiss.

"Hey, guys!" Gabe moves out into the hallway, brandishing his cell phone. "Perfect! I need someone to capture this moment forever! Would one of you like to volunteer?"

Gideon looks from me to Gabe, then to his phone. "Um...okay. What, just take a picture?"

"Yeah, come on, so I can always remind myself of how stupid Alex and I were at seventeen!"

"Yes, don't forget it was both our ideas," I say.

Gideon takes the phone and stands back so Gabe and I can do a stupid pose - our arms over each other's shoulders, Gabe making a peace sign while I point one thumb at Gabe in a "this-guy" gesture, doing a seriously dumbass grin. It's actually a genuine smile, though, purely because of how silly the picture is. Gideon and Juliet are laughing just as hard as Gabe and I are the whole time.

"Just so long as Mom never gets to see it, I'm okay with this," I say as I look at the final result.

"Well, if she doesn't find my Twitter page, she never will," Gabe says, pocketing his phone and putting his shirt on. I raise my eyebrows at him before following suit, but he doesn't see it.

"Wasn't expecting to see either of you here," I say.

"We got our ears pierced," Gideon says. He pulls back some of his wavy brown hair and shows no less than three small steel loops in his left ear. "Cool, aren't they?"

"Hell yeah," I say, high-fiving him.

Gabe surveys his ear critically. "I'm torn," he says. "I love that style, but...I thought you looked better more clean-cut. More like Shawn Mendes."

"I dunno if I should be insulted by that or not."

I laugh along with the other dudes, then ask Juliet, "What about your ears?" She shows us a black earring in one ear and a white one in the other. "Beautiful."

"Thanks. I'd say 'nice tattoos,'" she says, gesturing to my arm and then Gabe's, "but I can't see 'em."

"You'll see them soon enough. Wish we could've come on our birthday, but we wouldn't have had the time."

"Why not?"

"Our birthday was on Thursday."

"Oh, I see," Gideon says. "The twelfth?"

"Yeah."

We all stand there awkwardly for a moment, twiddling our thumbs. Then Gideon steps forward and makes his way to the door. "I'll leave you guys to your double date, huh?"

"You gonna go play basketball with the guys?" Gabe asks.

Gideon snickers as he steps over the threshold. "Happy Singles Appreciation Day, lovebirds!" he says, sauntering away down the Bridge.

The rest of us, we head to Two Guys - actually, it's once again been renamed Three Guys. The reason why becomes clear as we come up to the counter and I recognize the guy taking orders.

"Long time no see, Russell," I say.

"Yeah, you're right," Russell says, blinking behind his glasses. "Don't think I've seen your other friends before."

"This is Gabe Snow and Juliet Ripley," I say, gesturing to everyone in turn. "Oh, and Kyle Prado," I add, seeing him come in the door at last and greet Gabe with a kiss. "Guys, meet Russell Aspen."

"Enchanté, mes amis," Russell says.

"You speak French?" I ask, surprised.

"Pourquoi pas?" Russell says. "C'est une belle langue, n'est-ce pas? Malheureusement, je ne peux pas pratiquer très souvent."

I laugh. "Dommage, mon vieux."

Russell nods approvingly. "You're pretty good. Could work a bit on your accent, though. You take French at school?"

"Yeah," I say. "What about you, Kyle? Or is all this going dessus de la tête?"

Kyle laughs, shaking his head. "I take Spanish, not French."

Russell smiles. "Wish I spoke Spanish. All I know how to say is uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, and 'Dame el dinero o llamo a la Inmigración, puto hijo de pinche puta!'"

Kyle bursts out laughing. "Holy shit, that's rude. Where'd you learn that from?"

"I had a Guatemalan friend once," Russell says. "A really sweet girl, always eager to teach me to cuss in Spanish, among other things. Too bad she ended up leaving my school."

"Yeah, too bad," I say. "Hey, listen, before I forget, the souls never got to say thanks for your help. That was the last thing Steve told me to do before they left for the afterlife."

Russell smiles. "You know, I tried calling Freddie at one point - I got his number, but somehow, I don't think he got mine. Anyway, they must've already left, 'cause I got one of those 'The number you've reached is no longer in service' messages."

"That's too bad," I say. "Well, whatcha gonna do?"

"I know, right?"

We order our lunch and take a seat. Overhead, the speakers in the ceiling start playing "Oh Love" by Green Day. Suddenly, I start laughing uncontrollably.

"What's so funny?" Gabe asks.

"Nothing," I say, rubbing my forehead. "It's just that this - it's where I had my first date with Fionna."

"Your first of, what, three?" Juliet says.

"Two, actually," I say. "Each one very special, 'cause they were my first two real dates ever. That is, they both didn't end in bloodshed. Or tearshed."

"You've had dates end in bloodshed before?" asks Kyle.

"I wish, but no. That'd be a story to tell the kids, though."

"Assuming you get to have any," Gabe points out.

"Yeah. Also assuming I find another girl who's willing to one day have my babies."

Juliet smiles softly at me. I'll never not love that look on her face. "Hey, don't worry. I told you before, I know where you're coming from."

"Yeah. I know."

It doesn't surprise me when she explains herself to Gabe and Kyle, because I've encouraged her to take the opportunity to come out to others just like Gideon's done. When she gets to the part of Mia going totally incommunicado, Gabe says, "Oh my God," just like I did when I first heard the story.

"You don't really think she killed herself, do you?" Kyle asks.

"I'm sure I'd know by now if she had."

"I'd hope not," he says. "I've almost been there myself. Another statistic."

"Yeah," Juliet says. "It sucks that we, as a community, are so much more likely to kill ourselves." She leans her head against my shoulder.

"You're bi, then?" Kyle asks. "Not gay?"

"I'm dating Alex, aren't I? Yeah, I sorta like guys more," she says, reaching up to tap my head, "but I'm just...'getting bi,' as they say." She laughs sheepishly at her own pun. "My God...this feels so good. I should do this more often."

"More power to you," I say, stroking her hair. Gabe and Kyle communicate their feelings by taking her other hand, one after the other. Kyle even leans down and kisses it, formally, like in a bygone era of Victorian fancy dress.

"Thanks." She edges closer to me and kisses my cheek. "But...you watch Teen Wolf, right?"

"Yeah," we guys say in unison. I smirk at them, but especially to Gabe - he was the one who first got me into that show to begin with.

"Remember the one where Scott was saying how Allison was his anchor, and his mom told him it would be okay, and that he'd fall in love more than once?"

"Yeah, that," I say, feeling strongly reminded of my own mom. "It's a good lesson. But I just don't feel that it's so easy to, you know, let go of Fionna just yet. I mean, I still dream about her sometimes." It's true - but at least there's a sort-of good thing coming out of it. For one, she's not a zombie in my dreams anymore - she looks as normal and alive as ever. Unfortunately, my sleepwalking issues have continued to plague me off and on. I still have no idea why that keeps happening, but at least it's not nearly as often as it used to be.

Juliet nods. "That's all right. Take all the time you need."

"Yeah," Gabe says. "I mean, you saying goodbye to Fionna - that was about the saddest thing I ever saw."

"Here's your lunch," Russell says, sliding our large basil-tomato-sausage pizza onto the table.

"Thanks," I say.

"You're welcome," Russell says, snapping us a crisp salute as he leaves.

"Well, until then, I guess I'll just be glad to see that there's still love somewhere in the world," I say as I select my slice.

"Hey, it's a great start," Juliet says.

"I propose a pizza toast," Gabe says, lifting a slice of his own.

"To a long and beautiful relationship," I say with a grin that's seconds away from getting even cheesier, if such a thing were even possible.

"I second that one," Juliet says. "Or third. Whatever."

She, Gabe, Kyle, and I raise our chosen slices like they're wine glasses, then we take our first bites. I look up at the ceiling, where the speakers continue to play Billie Joe Armstrong singing about wearing his heart on a noose.