Soul stared into his reflection on his dressing room mirror. It reflected a pale, haggard face, with glowing embers for eyes and a mouth drawn down with weariness. His pale platinum hair was neatly done: slicked back with gell and curled appropriately, yet some strands were becoming undone and were now sticking out awkwardly. In the background, he heard a chorus of applause as the piano piece came to a close. After the next contestant, he was up. The thought sent a wave of nausea up his throat and he clutched his head in his hand and moaned quietly. His moans filled his head blocking out all noise and vertigo hit as the floor, which he stared bleakly at, suddenly tipped dangerously upwards and... Rat tat tat! The three knocks on the door broke him out of his nightmare and wearily he lifted his head from his hands and turned his stare towards the door. "Soul? Soul, it's me, Maka. May I please come in?" Upon realising that it was Maka, Soul returned back to his former position, tightly clamping his palms around his ears and humming loudly in his head. "Soul! Open up, NOW!" It was impossible. Maka was she-who-couldn't-be-ignored. Hesitantly, he pulled himself from his chair and dragged his feet towards the door. He opened the door an inch and glared at Maka's right eye, which glinte as it peeped at from the other side of the door. At the sight of Soul, however, all anger melted out of her emerald eyes.

"Hi! May I come in please?"

He glowered at her for a second, before opening the door slowly, inch by inch. His meister burst in, clearly in a good mood. After admiring the pretty dressing room for a moment,she turned to Soul excitedly.

"So, are you ready for your performance?"

Soul scowled at her insensitivity. Maka was normally more sensitive than this; excitement was screwing her brain. The idiot.

"No, I'm not," he snapped shortly. "I never expected that you, with your knowledge of my backstory, would drag me into doing this. And no, I don't care if my parents are part of the frickin' audience!"

All joy and excitement in Maka's face evaporated at his words, leaving confusion and hurt. A pang of guilt throbbed through his heart and he turned away from her angrily. In the background, a sad ode wailed uncontrollably. His eyes fell to the dressing room desk which contained the music sheets for the performance. Torn edges, scrawly handwriting, and ink splodges everywhere, this was the produce of his hard work. His parents wouldn't recognise him, no one would like the song. Whether he ran away or not, the results be the same: failure. Sighing to himself, he moved towards the bin and dumped the papers in. He left the room silently, leaving Maka alone in the room. The hall corridor was long and winding, yet strangely inviting. His legs moved of their own accord, whilst his head remained in the dressing room, suddenly a hand reached out amd grabbed him from behind. He gasped and spun around, only to see it was Maka with her face grim and emerald eyes burning fiercely.

"You're up next!"

"I know. I'm not performing."

"You are."

"No. I can't fail. Not in front of my parents. Not in front of you."

"So you're a coward. That's not cool, Soul."

"No, I'm..."

"Not able to face your fears of performing, I know. Don't use all that failure shit with me."

"You really don't understand..."

"And I really don't understand you, too. Didn't you say you didn't care if your parents were there or not?"

"I did, but...that might have changed."

"So give your best performance out there! I wouldn't have forced you to enter for other reasons."

"Oh. Okay. Sorry."

"Apologise later. Just go out there and do your best!"

"You sound cheesy."

"Soul!"

"Sorry, tsundere."

"Soul!"

"I'm going, dammit!"