A/N: And… Here's my AU fic. I hope you enjoy it half as much as I enjoyed writing it.
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Chapter 1: Childhood
Remember when we were just kids,
And cardboard boxes took us miles?
-Anberlin, "Inevitable"
It was a quiet household, but not in the usual sense of few people talking. Noise spread across it, creeping along the walls and permeating every rug, every painting, in the grand mansion. But, contained within, was a sad sort of silence. Music was the very foundation that had granted the owners their wealth, and this mansion, it seemed, was, too, built on the ideal that hung between the relationship of the staff, the note, and the soul. Generations of musicians lived, and died, by their music, creating a heavy tone in the house, but, still, it was no place for two growing boys, or, in fact, a growing girl.
With parents continually gone on traveling concert groups, two brothers were left with their grandmother as their maternal figure. A stern and no-nonsense woman, she was easily the toughest critic of the boys' musical progress. To the younger of the two brothers, it was simply the way things were. Music was the lifeblood of the household, and he grew up knowing it as artist knows his brushes.
There was a period within his brother's recollection in which their parents did reside at their mansion, inherited from previous generations, but it had ceased to be in easy reach for the elder of the pair, who was ten years the younger's senior. He could recall the winding duet of his mother and father; he could remember how he learned his own music at their knees. But at fifteen, he was already teaching his little brother the notes of the staff, and their relation to one another, because that was his duty as an elder brother.
The maternal figure in the boys' lives was none too easy to bear either. More time was spent with music under her instruction, a woman who ignored them outside of their shared music lessons. Ten years between the boys was a vast difference, and more often than not, the younger's playing was critiqued and perfected to live up to familial standards. His elder brother had gone through the same treatment, but where the elder played on the violin, his bow softly gliding over each string, the younger's fingers graced the black and white keys of a piano.
The brothers weren't particularly close, as ten years was a gulf in age and maturity. The elder spent more time with his studies and music than with his brother. Their shared time was merely their music lessons where the younger's feelings of inadequacy were cemented into his personality in the unwavering light of his elder brother's brilliance with his instrument.
But there was another figure that soon entered the brothers' lives. Most remarkable, was the child the newly hired maid brought along. While the Mistress that lorded over the mansion rarely spoke to the maid, she did her best to allow the daughter access to most of the household, save the personal rooms of the owners and herself. This meant the employees, and, thus, the brothers, could see the daughter occasionally wandering the halls of her new house in search of the latest mystery such an ancient house held.
It was in her wanderings that the girl found the elder brother. Her wide green eyes looked up at him, impossibly old in comparison to her age of five. "Hello," She whispered. Her voice carried along the supposedly haunted hallway.
Red eyes looked down on her and slender fingers curled around a violin. He found his voice, "You're the new maid's daughter."
She smiled up at him, a child's innocence surrounding her. "I am! Mama was just… hired." The girl was proud of her growing vocabulary. The fifteen-year-old blinked and he began to walk off. She was uninteresting as far as he was concerned. The toddler followed, and added, "I'm Maka, what's your name?"
"Wes," came the reply, though it was evident he was done conversing.
The daughter was strong headed, and kept after him, "So your Papa owns this home?"
"Yes." Wes approached a door to his personal music room, though she had no way of knowing it. He struggled with a desire to open the door, enter and slam it in her face, but had been taught that servants should be respected, as they did the work he had been spared from doing. "Excuse me," he entered the room, and with careful respect, slammed it in her face.
The girl's green eyes looked up at the huge door, and she fell to her knees and began crying. Everyone was quiet here, speaking short words and not talking to a girl. Their family needed the money, though, to put her father through the training he needed to become a teacher.
Silence was her company for a long time.
Soon, another white-haired, crimson-eyed son joined her, easily her age. His hands were shoved into his pockets. Even though the Mistress had told him it was poor posture, especially considering his valuable station in life as a painter of notes, he continued the habit. It was more comfortable, and what did she know anyways? She was wrinkly and smelled like old cheese to the younger of the boys.
Wide green eyed looked at him, and soon a smile found its way back on her features, "I'm Maka." She stood and curtsied with her tiny frock, hands spreading in the same fashion her mother had used on their first day at the mansion, only having been greeted by the head of the help staff.
He paused, eerily similar to his brother. Slowly a frown worked his mouth. "Soul," his voice held an inflection that was similar to his brother's.
She blinked at him. "Want to play?" Soul made no move, no words came out to wreck the years of quiet music. Maka walked over, reaching out a hand, "Let's play." He didn't remove his hands from their pockets, but the girl didn't seem to mind. Her fingers slid into his pocket and pulled out, twining closely. He began to walk, not resisting, though more out of apathy than unwillingness. "I found a really big library, but it was all dusty – do you ever use it?"
"No."
She stopped and stared, "What?!" Then she took off running, the boy only barely being able to keep up with Maka's passion for books. "Come on! You've gotta see it!"
It was odd being led by someone who didn't own the mansion, but Soul was dragged along anyways. Soon the pair was in front of two doors, which, to them, were incredibly large. Maka shoved one open and they entered. Maka's eyes glowed with a passion for books only rivaled by Soul's lack of enthusiasm. She turned around and grinned at him.
"Let's play!" Wide green eyes sought half-lidded red ones.
He looked around, "I don't see any instruments."
She laughed, and Soul's eyes fell a little. Well, she'd asked if he wanted to play, and that was all he knew. What was with her? What else was there to play? "No, silly!" She giggled, "A game! Like Hide-and-seek!" She received a blank stare. "You don't know it…?" Another giggle. "Well, I'll teach you!"
Soon, Soul's hands fell from his eyes and he began wandering the expanses of the dusty library. He glanced between shelves and poked under tables, looking for the gray-haired girl. Shiny black shoes became scuffed with the dirt in the library, and he came to a long wall lined with shelves, but under them were cupboards. He began opening them one by one, shutting each one behind him in turn. Before long, he came to the very last one and opened it.
He expected some sort of challenge, but, instead, Maka was curled up side, head resting on her hands, slowly breathing. He reached out a hand to wake her up, but, instead, let it fall back to his side. The boy sat himself between Maka and the door, resting his back on the hinge. His head fell back against it, and he was soon snoring.
*===*===*===*
"I am highly displeased." Maka stood next to Soul, eyes looking up at the Mistress. Soul's eyes were lidded as he prepared for the upcoming lecture about irresponsibility and stupidity. It was bound to come… Instead, Maka was quavering beneath the red-eyed woman that was his grandmother. "You were in the library instead of your music lessons with Wes. What could you possibly be doing there that could be more important than those lessons? You won't get any better at the piano if you miss lessons."
Soul kept his mouth shut. It didn't matter what he told his grandmother, that much he had realized by this age. Whatever she thought had happened… had happened. There was nothing that could change it. "We were playing."
"Playing?" The Mistress echoed.
The boy's mouth opened to spew a lie about the time spent, to tell her he'd been helping Maka learn music, instead the girl piped up with, "A game! Hide-and-seek!"
If it was possible, the Mistress's face grew harder. "You missed music lessons to play a game?"
He nodded. She looked down on him, "Stay here." The white-haired fury let her eyes drift over to Maka, "Remember this: You mother's presence is not required here. She can be replaced. Keep that in mind when you interrupt my grandson's scheduled activities. You will go back to the servants' quarters and stay there until I can send your mother to you. Is that quite clear, you dull-witted child?"
She was brave. Not even a tear came to her eyes as she nodded and left the study. Soul tried to encourage her with a small smile, but Maka's face was turned away in shame and she sulked off. That left Soul and the Mistress at odds about music.
"I am highly displeased. Go practice. Now." Her voice cracked across his ears like a whip, and he moved away from her, body tight with irritation. She wasn't his mother, but she was a surrogate with how often his parents were gone. Soul's face grew somber. The Mistress of the Evans's mansion watched her grandson leave before she picked up a sheet of paper with staffs on it and began looking over it for probably the thousandth time.
*===*===*===*
It only took one more incident of failing to appear for lessons before Maka was banned from the central mansion, and the great library that resided there. Still, a rebellious streak awakened by a little girl with wide green eyes had caught fire in Soul, and he began leaving without her presence to encourage the child that was somehow still left in him. The rift between Soul, his grandmother and Wes grew wider. With each passing day, the Mistress learned that her younger grandson was not the child she had thought he once was.
It was about a year after Maka's ban that Soul's life changed dramatically again. He was prowling the halls again, skipping lessons again, when he made it to a servants' door. He had successfully avoided servants and those would inform his grandmother of his whereabouts. The door opened silently onto a secluded path in the tamed English-style garden. White-haired and rebellious, the boy peered around, cautiously looking for the people he was hiding from, before walking out, hands stuffed into his pockets, and heading for the servants' manor.
He, having followed it in various ways for a year, knew the path. Each step was familiar. Soon, the manor came into sight, hidden from the mansion's view by the tall greenery. He rapped on the door, which was opened by the servant, ironically, attending the servants' manor. Her hair was chocolate brunette, and curly, her uniform smartly pressed to the expectations of a rich family.
"Hello, young master." She greeted formally, with a smile. "What brings you here?"
Soul's red eyes were in their usual half-lidded position. "Can you tell Maka I'm here?" Even a rich child knew his position regarding servants: it was more an order with a lilt of a question.
The lady's face fell a little, "You weren't told?"
"What?" His eyebrow rose a little.
Her brown eyes fell into his crimson ones, sadness hidden behind them. "The Albarns have left the Mistress's service."
Soul stared. "That's a bad joke."
The servant shook her head. "They left yesterday for good."
He spun on his heel to leave, hard soles clicking against the flagstones. She'd left without even saying goodbye.
So much for friendship.
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A/N: Reviews are love.
Next Chapter:
All this time and everything's changed,
But I still feel the same.
All good things eventually end and get lost down the drain.
-Motion City Soundtrack, "It Had To Be You"