Title: Homecoming
Rating: K
Author: Dinaja
Disclaimer: Soul Eater does in no way belong to me.
There are some days Soul can't keep the memories away. The comfortable life in the Evans Manor seems so far from his current life that it sometimes seems like a different life entirely, so he usually has no problem keeping thoughts of it at a distance. Then there are days like these, when Maka is doing her homework at the library and Blair is out with her witch friends, and he comes home to an empty house with nothing to do besides homework.
Since he never actually puts enough effort into his homework to actually concentrate on it (that wouldn't be cool now would it?), he ends up thinking about other things instead. As always when he lets his mind wander, melodies come to him, the music he loves so much taking form in his mind. He imagines himself playing them, each note falling into right place and creating a beautiful harmony, only its nothing like what his brother can do, and that's why he always ends up thinking about him on these days.
He sits on the sofa, his homework laying forgotten on the table in front of him as he pictures his brother playing the violin. Soul can still feel the sense of awe that he has felt for him since he was little, even if it's just a memory. The other people watching him felt it too as they listened to the beautiful music.
"So talented," they would whisper. "That's Wes Evan. You know the Evans right? That family has had many generations of musicians, but Wes must surely be a genius even among them."
Soul would watch and listen to his brother together with the others, and though he never spoke it aloud to anyone but Wes himself, he had always agreed with them.
That's why, when people listened to him playing the piano, watching him with wide and admiring eyes, he could honestly not see the reason for their amazement. They said he had talent, though he was very aware that he had none compared to his brother. Clearly they must have lied. He was just a shadow.
The last time he played the piano was on his first day at Shibusen. He had played it since, inside his mind, his soul, finding that he still best conveyed his feelings through music, but that day he had found the piano in the empty hall, and he had played out his emotions, turning all his reasons for coming there into music. He remembers finishing and hearing someone clapping their hands behind him. He remembers meeting Maka. She told him it was beautiful, and he knew then that it wasn't the music itself, which he intentionally had screwed up, that impressed her. It was the feelings he had put into it.
And that's why, when Maka reached out her hand, he took it in his own and they started the long journey that lead to where they were today.
He looks at his arm, remembering the look on his brother's face when he transformed it in front of him. What would Wes say now that he has become a Death Scythe? What would all those people, who don't know anything but the safe and comfortable reality they live in, think if they see what his new occupation is? He lets his lips draw back in a sharp-toothed grin, imagining Maka and himself showing off and terrorizing a hall full of family guests.
Rising from the couch, he goes to look through the records in his room. He finds a funky record and puts it on, going through a few dance moves afterwards because no-one is watching him. Going back to his previous spot on the couch, he picks up his homework and looks over it again. He bends down to write in another answer before abandoning it once more.
When Maka comes home an hour later, it is to a set table and a near perfect pot of curry. It's on days like this he feels it necessary to show her just how much he appreciates her being there.