Maka chewed the inside of her cheek as she furrowed her brows at the sounds coming from inside her and Soul's apartment. She was inches from opening the door, but once she heard the very rare piano melodies being harshly played from inside, the blonde froze in her tracks.

After a few seconds, which seemed to pass like a few lifetimes, Maka slowly pushed the door open, the loud and furious sounds of Soul's frustrated piano-playing assaulting her poor ears. The meister carefully and soundlessly closed the door, before sneaking into the living room to catch a glimpse of her weapon.

Soul sat at the piano they'd been sent from his rich family, them encouraging him to continue to play, although the soon-to-be-Death Scythe had much more important things to do. But, that wasn't why Soul was playing—more like attacking—the piano before him.

No, he was playing because of the Black Blood that coursed through his veins.

In fact, Soul was so intent on playing this odd, demented tune, he didn't even have a clue Maka was cowering in the hall, biting her lips to the point of injury.

Oh, Soul… Why won't you tell me anything? If you just talked… the blood wouldn't be this strong… Maka thought wishfully to herself, her olive eyes looking in horror to Soul. Red eyes stared down at the white and black keys with all of his sharp, white teeth bared, his shoulders hunching with each powerful slam of the keys.

Inside the Black Room:

"Why won't you go away?" Soul screamed at the demon furiously, his hands playing the piano at his fingertips, only, in his mind.

The demon, however, pressed a finger to his lips, mocking disappointment with his lips in a playful pout. "It's rude to talk during a piece," he chastised.

Soul, however, was not having any of this. And, finding his fingers to be rather sore from attacking the piano so viciously, he took the rest of his strength to shove away from the piano. The weapon then, rather meekly, staggered back a few more steps, his breath coming in rushed pants.

Piano playing wasn't supposed to be a chore; it was supposed to be a pleasure.

The little red bastard, the source of Soul's anger tonight, quickly got up, following after him. "And where are you going? You can't leave our audience hanging!"

The white-haired male looked at the other, an annoyed look on his features. "I won't do it. Anymore. Go find yourself another pianist."

Of course, both knew the 'piano' was merely a metaphor for what they each either pined for, or refused. This is how Soul's mind went, and he wasn't going to lose at his own game.

Inside the Apartment:

Maka now felt her stomach tightening with each furious chord that came from Soul's fingertips, each ringing in her ears a second longer then they should. But, Maka only stood there, helpless as to what she could do now.

Soul often went into these fits, now, each one usually more brutal then the last. He'd stomp out of his room to the piano, nearly growling as he slammed the cover up, taking a few harsh breaths before he rammed his skilful hands along the keys, playing some of the darkest music Maka had ever heard. She knew it was because of the demon Soul claimed to hear and see; it always was. That voice caused him the rage fits, and the macabre nightmares he suffered nearly three or more times a night.

Unable to take the thought of Soul being in a living hell, Maka took slow, silent steps towards him, cringing at the loud notes he played. When she was just behind him her left hand clutched at her heart while her right hand gently rested on his shoulder, making him visibly jump.

"Soul…" She murmured, her fingers tightening a little on his strong shoulder.

He flicked his red eyes over his shoulder at her, an almost un-human look. But Maka couldn't retreat any longer, so she held her ground, keeping a hand on him. Well he looked at me, so his fit should end soon, she thought, staring directly at him.

Back Inside the Black Room:

"You can't escape what you've been created to do, Soul," The demon purred to Soul with a wide, sickening grin.

Soul growled, finding his energy once more as he whipped around, and made a quick pace to the door, his only exit.

"I'm done discussing this." The weapon hissed, his hand on the knob. "So shut up."

Soul threw the door open, slamming it behind him as he was absorbed in darkness. The darkness was much better than the verbal hell inside the room.

"So you think, Soul…"

Back Inside the Apartment:

Winning the mental battle, Soul gasp a small gasp of breath, suddenly finding himself exhausted. After a few seconds, he glanced over his shoulder to Maka, standing brittle-looking behind him, her hand pressed deep into her chest as the other gripped at his shoulder. He frowned as he noticed his meisters peaceful green eyes were now tear-filled, looking right at him.

"Thank God…" She mumbled as she crumbled down beside him on the piano bench, wrapping both her arms tightly around him. Soul blinked, wide eyed at her as he felt Maka's body tremble. He gently placed a hand between her shoulder blades, his jaw resting on her shoulder as he held her gently.

"Shh…" He soothed, stroking her back as he heard her quietly sniffle against him. "I'm alright."

Maka nodded into his chest, her fingers grasping his shirt tightly. "Good..." She murmured into his clothing, her voice mostly a muffle against him. Soul sighed as he tried to calm her; remorseful of the fact he could make her feel so miserable.

"Maka, please stop crying," He muttered after a few more minutes of holding her, his hands finding a soothing rhythm as he gently stroked her ashen blonde locks.

The meister quickly looked up at him, almost timid of his words, with wide green, tear-dried eyes, not saying a word.

Soul, worried at her new behavior, wrapped his arm around her waist and brought her to sit in his lap, his hand gently brushing her tears from her cheeks.

"You've gotta stop worrying so much, Maka. It's really uncool."

Maka gave a very faint smile, shaking her head in a gentle manner at him as she locked her gaze with blood red irises.

"I can't see you like this anymore, Soul… It's so painful to watch you get so—"

Soul cut her off rather rudely, looking away with an almost wounded sort of look crossing his features as he glared at nothing. "Worked up? Angry? Pissed beyond belief?"

She paused, before finally whispering with tears thick in her throat:

"Scared, Soul."

Soul could only swallow down his insults he had ready to fire at her, blinking in surprise with her admission. Maka, thinking she upset him even more, tensed up in his lap, watching his every move. But, instead of getting yelled at or anything of the angry-Soul sort, his arms just held her tight as his head ducked against the hollow of her neck.

"Scared doesn't even begin to cover it, Maka."

~O-O-O-O~

I actually wrote this awhile ago, but never had the courage to post it until now. .3.

Yeah, so… yeah. Enjoy, I suppose, even though it is rather old. …More like, really old, this is from last November or December I believe. Buuuut, either way.

Yeah, bye. :3