A/N: I have not written a one shot as long as this for a while, I am so sorry. (Though, you probably were happy about that, weren't you?)
Warning: This is my first Soul Eater story that isn't Soul and Maka so... Be wary.
Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater.
And brother if you have the chance to pick me up?
And can I sleep on your couch to the pound of the ache and pain?
Oh, in my head 'cause I'm awake all night long to the drums of the city rain
He hurried under the safety of a nearby cafe, closing his umbrella and putting it in the complimentary bag he had gotten at the front for wet umbrellas. The place buzzed with conversations of the customers and the employees that were working leisurely. He looked around to find the cafe was half empty. There was a group of girls at the corner speaking a very hushed conversation, an elderly couple speaking about the color purple over cakes and bagels, a man in a suit and red tie stirring his coffee very angrily while yelling into the phone about someone not doing their jobs, and multiple people on their phones and laptops sipping their drinks or biting into their doughnuts occasionally. The speakers played music at a very low volume, though he appreciated how the pieces he could decipher had matched the atmosphere so that it calmed his nerves.
He sat at a table next to the angry man in a suit and behind a woman switching from writing in her notebook and typing on her laptop. A waiter came up to him as he shook his head, drops of water splashing onto the table and floor.
"May I help you, sir?
"Two black coffees and two glazed doughnuts, please."
The waiter wrote it down, then nodded and walked behind the counter.
For a while, he closed his eyes and listened to the music. His fingers tapped to the rhythm, almost so enthralled that he wouldn't have heard the cafe door open with the brief sound of hard rain hitting pavement and the scratch of the chair in front of him on the wood floor.
More droplets splattered on the table.
"I'm sorry for the wait, brother. I had been in an important meeting when you called."
He opened his eyes, just in time to see him finish wiping off his hands and place the napkin on his lap before folding another and wiping the table. "Sorry for the drop in."
"It's no bother. I'm just wondering why you haven't dropped in sooner." Cool mahogany eyes left the table and met matching red.
As if to avoid the subject, the owner of the red eyes shifted his gaze outside. A sigh escaped the other man's lips as he placed the damp napkin on the edge of the table, putting the napkin that had been on his lap on it. He had removed his jacket and put it over the back of his chair to dry, revealing the black and white suit that was slightly wet. The noise of the cafe filled their silence, both of them tapping their feet to the beat of the music unconsciously until the waiter brought back their order.
The owner of the mahogany eyes smiled softly at the waiter. "Thank you." His brother grunted a "thanks", not sounding as sincere. The waiter nodded before walking back behind the counter.
"Little brother, that wasn't very polite-"
"We've barely been here for ten minutes and you're already lecturing me on my manners."
He shook his head with a smile, looking down at his coffee. "I wasn't trying to lecture. I was just simply pointing out your behavior toward the person serving you." He lifted the cup and took a sip. His eyes flickered to his brother once again before taking another sip. "Black coffee."
"Your favorite."
"You remembered." He chuckled as his brother took 5 packets of sugar, ripped them all at once, and dumped them into his coffee. Some of the sugar spilled onto the table but the younger boy did not care, he only took the spoon that the waiter left and stirred.
"How could I forget?" He scoffed as he slumped back on the chair, pretending to be focused on stirring his coffee. "You were practically run off of black coffee when we were younger, Wes." He finally took the spoon out and laid it on the table.
"Soul," his brother sighed before he took another napkin and slid it under the spoon.
"The point of the workers is for them to be paid for working. Don't give me that look, I know what I'm doing and I'm doing it on purpose."
"I was sure your master would have made you a gentleman."
Soul shook his head and put an elbow on the table as he rested his cheek on his hand. "It's meister, first of all."
"Okay, meister then."
"Also, you really think she's into that sophisticated shit mom and dad had been trying to make me do for years? Please, she's lived in a place called Death City and has Black Star as a childhood friend."
Wes tilted his head. "Who's Black Star?"
"An idiot," Soul rolled his eyes.
His brother blinked when he saw the soft small Soul had on his face despite the intelligence his friend seemed to have. Maybe his meister had changed him...
"Any who, please clean up after yourself. Also, what was the reason you've called?"
"We need to talk."
"Oh, sure."
They sat in silence once again until Soul's eyes widened and he almost spit his coffee all over the table.
"Wait, did you think I'd do it now?"
His brother shrugged with an innocent pout on his face. "There's no better time than the present."
"It's rather something I'd like to talk to you about in private."
"Oh." Wes put his mug down. "Would you like to talk at my apartment?"
"Uh, actually, can I crash at your place for tonight?" Soul looked outside as the rain seemed to pour harder. "I... Kinda didn't plan for the weather to be this bad."
"You're in New York, Soul." Wes chuckled as he got up and threw his jacket back on. "I'll pull the car up, wait here. Excuse me sir, could I get this to go?"
The ride to Wes's apartment had been painfully awkward, Wes had not initiated conversation or turned the radio on. They sat in his brand new sleek black Prius in silence for 10 minutes. A painfully awkward 10 minutes.
The apartment building could have been a lot worse but also a lot better. It wasn't in a crowded area but it also wasn't in isolation. He was surprised to know that Wes didn't have the top suite. He sat on the couch as requested while his host prepared his room.
In the living room, he could hear his older brother rummage around in the spare bedroom. He was probably looking for spare sheets, thinking he was freezing in this weather. Granted it was cold, well under 2 degrees Celsius, his body had lived in Manchester for practically half of his life and had a huge effect on what temperatures he could handle. He grimaced slightly as he remembered his hometown. Manchester and boarding school was not something he liked remembering. He did like London though, mostly because his grandmother lived there and they'd spend holiday there. A smile formed on his lips when thinking of the elder Evans woman and her unbelievably good pastries.
Bored and already having analyzed everything in his brother's living room, Soul got up to look outside. He glanced out the window, watching the rain splatter then glanced down at the ones that splashed onto the ground below. Everyone down below was in a hurry to get somewhere, somewhat ignoring the rain. He watched as puddles of rain was ran in and avoided, the murmur of the crowd could be heard from up where he was. The words "Evans" and "brilliant musician" along with faces plastered with nothing but a large fake smile in the crowd.
"Your room's all ready to go." His brother's voice snapped him away from his revere. Soul turned to face him with a wide eyed expression. "What's wrong, little brother?"
"I... I don't know..." He glanced outside again, the murmur of the crowd suddenly gone and the hum of the refrigerator the only thing sounding in the room. He shook his head, grabbing his backpack. "Just show me to my room."
Silently, he led him down the hall and past three rooms. The last room was open and seemed to be used. A desk and black swivel chair was set at the corner next to the window and the bed across from it and next to the door. The closet was on the other side of the desk, a mirror hanging on the shut door. The red painted walls were empty save for the wall across of the bed, containing a bulletin board and cut out newspaper articles pinned to it. As Soul walked closer to read the headline of the largest article, he said, "This is your room."
Wes just nodded.
He read the articles for a while until his brother spoke up. "The bathroom is next door. I'll be in the room after. The knob is labelled H and C for hot and cold; the middle is white for a temperature in the middle. Turn the knob to the right until you've found the right temperature. I'm going to leave a towel on the bed. You may hang it on the back of the chair at the desk when you're done using it."
Soul just nodded, eyes not straying from the words posted by his elder brother.
Halfway out of the door, he added, "You can always talk to me. Always, brother." With that, he quietly shut the door.
"Meister, Maka Albarn, creates a Death Scythe, Soul Eater, at the age of 18!" The demon weapon read off the article, noting how his name was highlighted and how he was circled in the picture of him and his meister (Maka was in a simple long red dress and he was in a simple suit). In fact, in the whole article that was cut off, anywhere he was mentioned was highlighted as well as any quotes. This was the same with all of the articles, though he really didn't like that his brother had seemed to completely ignore his meister's existence, and it caused a sort of warmth within his chest.
Some of the articles were titled:
"Meister-Weapon Duo, Maka and Soul, Face Off Kishin Asura!"
"Meister Maka and Weapon Soul Battle Kishin Asura On Moon!"
And the classic: "Love In The DWMA? Is the Meister-Weapon Duo, Maka and Soul, In A Relationship?"
However, something at the corner of his eye caught his attention. A post it note was taped at the corner of the bulletin, the tape already peeling off. The neon pink should have been the first thing that popped out, had the articles not been highlighted.
"I'm sorry."
Under the scratchy pencil handwriting, was two other lines written in precise cursive.
"Never be." The two words were also written in pencil.
"Do it for your brother." This line was written in red pen, as if to be there permanently.
He wondered who he was referring to. A shiver ran up his spine, reminding him that he was in dire need of a warm shower. He read the lines on the post-it note once more before grabbing the dark green towel and his clothing then headed into the bathroom next door.
After testing the water and stripping off his clothes, Soul stood under the shower mouth unmoving. The sound of the water splashing onto the tiles of the bath echoed in his head, creating background murmurs of a crowd once again.
The men and women were new buildings, wearing suits and dresses new and clean that must have cost more than two thousand dollars. Their smile was plastered on their face and the conversations they were having were dull.
Behind the red curtain, Soul gulped and rubbed his sweaty palms on his suit pants. A hand clapped him on the shoulder, making him jump. Wes chuckled when his brother held a hand to his heart and glared at him.
"Don't do that!" The 7-year-old growled, shrugging his hand off.
"Don't be afraid, Soul. It's going to be fine." The 11-year-old said, pulling him into a noogie.
"Wes!" Soul whined, pulling away from him and brushing his hand through his hair. "Mom spent hours on my hair! She's gonna kill me!"
The older boy only smiled. "You'll do fine!"
Suddenly, a monotone voice and bored faced man informed Wes he was to perform. Wes turned to his brother. "Wish me good luck?"
"You don't need it-!" Soul tried to insist.
"Just do it," Wes pleaded, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.
He stared at him for a while, until the same monotone man told Wes it was time to get on stage. "Break a leg."
A smile appeared on his older brother's face. "Thanks." Someone handed him his violin case, he took the violin and bow out in seconds. He walked on stage and the audience silenced themselves.
Soul liked to do different things when he listened to his brother's playing. Sometimes he watched the audience as their mouths drop in awe at the beauty of the notes he played. Other times, Soul would close his eyes and try to make a story with it or come up with a meaning. However, he liked watching his brother as he played. When Wes played, he would always close his eyes and Soul always wondered why. His face would twist and change as he played, matching the mood of the music. It always brought a pang in Soul's heart watching his brother play because Wes would more than often play something heartbreaking and it would show in his face as he played.
When Wes had finished and bowed, the whole audience had gone in to a clapping rage. Soul could already hear the praises they had of had older brother. His heart was beginning to ache and his hands were getting shaky. He didn't want to go up there. As he heard about how a couple loved how the song Wes played pulled the strings of their heart, he suddenly felt woozy. He could never play anything as good as Wes.
"Soul, you're up." An elderly woman smiled down at him and patted his head.
"Gran..." He shook his head. "I don't want to..."
His grandmother looked beside her, at her other grandson.
"What? Why?" Wes frowned, close to pushing his brother on stage.
"You already went, why do I have to!"
"Because you're good!" Both his granny and brother yelled.
Wes sighed, flicking his brother's forehead (which earned him a smack from the elder next to him). "Play something you like because you're good at that."
Granny gave him a wrinkly smile, fixing his tie. "Play with all of your soul, Soul."
He chuckled at the wordplay, before straightening up and facing the stage.
His grandmother and brother gave him a thumbs up as he walked on stage. The audience silenced once again as he sat on the piano bench and raised the cover.
Then, he played. He played a song he liked and played it with all of his soul. His fingers danced on the keys and he poured all of his emotions on the piano. He played rejection, sorrow, and failure. He played madness, happiness, and loneliness. He played his song. By the end of the song, he was sweating and panting and his hands felt tingly. He felt panic again as he realized what was going on.
Instead of clapping like they had done for Wes, the groups of mannequins suddenly turned to each other and whispered. Someone off stage clapped but Soul's eyes blurred with tears too much to care. He ran off the stage, past his father and mother and shrugged off Wes and his grandma. After finding and throwing on his jacket, he raced out the back door.
The cold hurt his eyes as he ran and he was sweating under all the layers. He was sure that he'd get a cold later but didn't find it in himself to care as he spotted a playground and slowed to a walk.
He sniffled and wiped at his tears as he sat next to the spiral slide. The cold stung his cheeks and he hiccupped through his sob.
"Soul?"
"Go away." He muttered, burying his face in to his jacket.
"Don't do that, you're going to look like a turtle."
His brother settled next to him, handing him a hot pack. Soul stared at it before shaking it and holding it up to his cold cheeks. They sat in the snow for a while, warming up.
"I'm sorry," Soul muttered.
"For what?" Wes blinked at him.
"Not being good enough."
Wes's eyebrows suddenly scrunched up together. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, mom and dad don't like me! You're better than me at everything!"
Wes smiled softly, patting his brother's head while the younger boy pouted. "Hey, let's make snow angels!"
"No! You're gonna make a better one!"
He sighed and put his hands on his hips. "Then... Let's have a snowball fight!"
"No! You're just gonna beat me!"
"Soul..." Wes whined, stomping his feet in the snow. "I wanna play!"
"Do it by yourself! You're probably be better at that too!"
This time, Wes pouted. "I wanna play with you."
"No."
"Soul..."
"I said no, Wes!"
"That's it!" His older brother pulled him by the elbow and dragged him across the snow.
"Ow! That hurts!" Soul yelled when he was suddenly dropped into the snow. He got up, brushing the snow off his clothes and hair.
"We're going to build a snow castle!"
Souls gave his brother an incredulous look. "Isn't it supposed to be a sandcastle?"
"Well, we don't have sand do we?"
"No."
"Then we're going to make it out of snow!"
"You're stupid. I'm not doing it."
Wes kneeled down and started to gather up snow. "C'mon!"
"No! You're being stupid!"
"You were okay when we built a sandman at the beach!"
"Because grandma was there helping!"
He looked up and ran a hand through his hair. "Soul, if you help me build this then we can make a snowman later. Okay?"
Of course, Soul nodded eagerly. "Okay!"
As they built the snow castle, Wes teased him for liking puns.
"Grandma likes puns and so do I!"
Of course, Wes sniggered. "Well, tell me a pun then."
"Okay, why does a Moon rock taste better than an Earth rock?"
"Why?"
Soul shrugged. "It's a little meteor."
Wes laughed loudly, tears forming at the corner of his eyes and rocking back and forth. He almost hit the snowcastle at one point. When he stopped, he congratulated his brother for being a nerd while continuing to help him with the snowcastle.
"I'm not a nerd, I'm just really funny." Soul smiled widely, serrated teeth shamelessly on display. Wes decided out loud that he liked that smile on his brother the best.
A knock on the bathroom door snapped him back to reality once again. Cuts shaped like crescent moons sat on both of his palms, the blood coming out as dots. His breathing was ragged and loud and he watched as his white knuckles turned back to their normal color.
"Soul, are you alright? What's going on in there? Soul?"
Quickly, he shoved his hands under the water and watched as the blood was sucked down the drain. "Nothing! I'm just soaking in the warm water!"
He calmed when he heard his brother mutter an "okay" at the door. His back rested on the tile walls, releasing a deep breath. It was inevitable that the type of thing he was experiencing would happen when he visited his brother. He just really hoped that he could last at least a night without having his brother look at him with those sad eyes, those worried eyes.
"Maka..." he sighed, scrubbing his face with his hands before shutting off the water. In reality, he already knew what was going to happen. He knew all of the possibilities and had thought of an answer for all of them, with the help of his meister. The same meister had been cruel enough to call Wes and arrange a meeting, saying he needed it. She thought he needed to be alone with his brother to sort things out.
He smiled unconsciously at the thought of the girl. She really was something else. Only she would have been able to push him to contact his brother again.
He dried himself with the towel and slipped into his clothes. As he dried his hair, he glanced at his reflection and sighed. He hadn't seen his family for years and then he calls his brother to meet up after years of them trying to call him?
Soul stepped out of the bathroom, glancing briefly at his brother's room before heading to his (the guest) room. He threw the towel over the back of the chair and stuffed his clothing in his suitcase. He glanced again at the bulletin board showcasing his accomplishments and laid on the bed. He pulled the sheets to his chest as he listened to the sound of the rain.
Remember when you and I would make things up?
So many nights, just take me down to the place we could hear them play
I miss that sound
'Cause now we don't sing so loud
To the drums of the city rain
He looked outside with a frown, resting his head on the arm of the couch.
"Soul! I made you hot chocolate!" Wes yelled from the kitchen, although the door to the room was open.
Soul dragged himself in to the room and climbed on to the stool at the kitchen island. "Do we have peppermint sticks?"
Wes turned and looked through the cabinets, humming a tune. When he found the requested box, he let out a joyful "a-ha!" and slid it across the table for his brother to catch. As his brother took a peppermint stick from the box and stirred his hot chocolate eagerly, Wes settled in the stool to the right of him with his caramel hot chocolate in his panda bear mug.
"Why does it have to rain?" The youngest Evans whined.
"We live in Manchester, Soul. It almost always rains!" Wes laughed at his ridiculous question.
Soul pouted before taking a bite of his peppermint stick. "Well?"
"Well what?" His brother smiled.
"It's raining! But all I hear is you being an arse!"
His brother let out a mock gasp and held a hand to his heart. "Soul! Language!"
Soul only rolled his eyes and took a sip of his hot chocolate.
"Okay, what song?" Wes asked, helping his brother off the stool and making his way to the grand piano in their living room. His brother followed, carrying his hot chocolate carefully.
"Hey Jude?"
"We've done that a hundred times, pick another song!" Wes put his mug on the piano along with his brothers.
"I dunno... Can we make something up?"
Wes blinked at the suggestion. "But... We never do that..."
"Please!" His younger brother begged, clasping his hands together and pouting up at him.
"Okay, but you'll have to make the chord suggestions seeing as you're the piano prodigy."
Soul nodded and started playing. As the song went on, Wes started singing. Soon after, Soul joined in. Their song went on for most of the night, even after their mugs were empty. It was only when their parents came home did Wes usher Soul back to his room and tuck him in to bed.
"Wes?" Soul asked as his brother was about to turn the light off.
"Yes?"
"Could we make another song again?"
Wes smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Next time you hear rain, we'll make up a song."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He couldn't sleep. The ceiling of his brother's room wasn't at all interesting and he had been awake for almost 22 hours. All he wants is to sleep. That was the point of him even being there.
After groaning into his pillow, he shook his head and got up. He wondered where his brother kept the coffee...
A few moments later, his feet shuffled on the cold wood of the apartment as he went to the kitchen. He was surprised to hear the soft clacking of a spoon hitting something ceramic as he rounded the corner.
Sitting at the kitchen table looking rather tired was his elder brother stirring a cup of what looked like coffee. He was drinking more coffee.
Being as silent as possible, Soul slid in to the seat in front of Wes. The older Evans didn't seem to be surprised as he stood up and got another mug that sat next to the coffee pot on the counter and set it in front of Soul. He also handed him a spoon and five packets of sugar. As Soul put the sugar in his coffee neatly and stirred. They sat in silence, drinking their coffee.
"Remember when we were younger?"
Soul looked up.
"When we would go out after bedtime to play at the playground?"
"Yeah." Soul laughed, his heart clenching.
"I always called grandma, just to make sure someone knew where we were."
"I know."
"Of course you do," Wes hummed.
They fell into silence again, this time Soul felt guilt set in his stomach. The memory of him and his brother sneaking off and playing together, them having a genuinely good time, had his guts churning.
"I'm sorry."
His brother looked up, the corner of his lips quirked upwards and his eyes soft. "Don't be."
"Why?"
"You did nothing wrong."
Soul's hand clenched the handle of the mug as he stared at the coffee. "I left."
"You did."
"I hated you."
This time, Wes cocked an eyebrow and set down his mug. "Oh."
"Mom and Dad loved you more."
"Soul-"
"No." He looked up and his eyes were watery even if he didn't want them to be. "Just listen to me." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Everyone loved your music more than mine and I hated you for that. I was happy when I found out that I was a weapon. I had a suitcase of clothes filled up for years, collecting dust because I had been waiting for the right opportunity to leave. I still hated you and I hated the piano because I thought I couldn't play music as good as you. But then I had friends, real friends who cared about me and liked me for being me. Now, because of them, I... I don't hate you. I mean, I always loved you but I also hated you before."
Soul waited as Wes tapped his finger and nodded with pursed lips, probably analyzing what he had just said.
"I understand. You don't have to love me, Soul. I'm not your brother by choice."
"But you are. You're my brother and I hadn't seen that since I was 9 but now I realize it again. Wes, you're a... cool brother." Soul ran a hand through his hair.
Wes immediately perked up. "I am?"
"Yeah- oh shut up! All I said was that you're cool! Shinigami-sama!"
The grin on his brother's face didn't go away. "I'm glad you think that."
"Pft. Whatever."
"I had been jealous too. Gran seemed to favor you more than me. After you left and went to that weapon school, she'd always watch the news and read the newspaper to see your name. It took me a while to actually be proud of you for being a weapon, because you left us. Mom and Dad were the same but I missed you. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you made friends at school. I'm proud of what you've accomplished. You've done a fantastic job exceeding people's expectations of you. I'm more than glad that you're my brother."
Soul smiled as he sipped his coffee. The meaning behind it was obvious. Thank you.
"Hey," Soul looked up at his brother. "I love you."
"I hate you." He rolled his eyes at him.
"Aw, c'mon Soul!"
Soul mumbled into his coffee softly, ears burning.
"Soul..." Wes whined.
"Fine! I love you. There? Happy?"
Wes gave him a soft smile. "I am. I am indeed."
Soul rolled his eyes and looked out the window before getting up and walking towards it. His brother followed, curious as to what was so interesting.
Instead of the sound of rain pelting the window, there had been silence for a while. The streets still looked cold but with the addition of a soft white covering it. White specks seemed to be floating down to add on to the ones on the street.
"Hey, it's snowing."
When Wes looked over to his younger brother, he saw awe in his eyes.
"It's been years since I've last seen snow."
"Really?" He walked over to grab their coats and threw his at him. "Well then, what are you waiting for?" Soul looked confused, holding his jacket in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. "Let's go build some snow things!"
Soul smirked before setting his coffee down and racing after his brother while putting his jacket on. He raced past Wes and laughed. "Hurry it up, grandpa!"
Wes only laughed with him and took a few minutes longer to get down the flight of stairs. When he finally got outside, he found his brother already starting to build something.
Wes smiled as he watched his brother gather up snow and continued to roll it. He was suddenly reminded of their younger years, where they often made a lopsided snowman after running away from the house for a while. "Hey, it's gonna be lopsided if you do that! Wait, let me help you!" He chuckled before jogging over to his brother, who was mumbling curses under his breath. Wes didn't miss his smile as they rolled the large snowballs.
The lights we chase
The nights we steal
The things we take to make us feel this
I can't go back
I don't think I will
I won't sleep tonight as long as I still
Hear the drums of the city rain
-Brother, Gerard Way
Until next time!
-That Person