Drabble-y one-shot I made while having Writer's block.
Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater.
Soul could hear the voices no matter how hard he tried to block them out.
Over his piano playing, they were. All around the ballroom, from mummers of admiration to shouts of recognition.
They all had their body, mind, soul on one thing.
Him.
The albino finished off the last of his piece in a metso waltz instead of the original forte ballet.
Everyone Loved It.
There were applause and laughter and whistles.
Soul stood, faced away from the black Grand in the corner to the filled ballroom. His throat constricted.
All eyes were on him.
He bowed, half-smiled, and exited the room, trying hard to not notice the whispers again.
"He's such a great player!"
"Nothing short of expected from the Evans family."
"A natural, just like his brother."
"He'll become famous if he keeps it up. Just like Wes."
"They must've learned from the best."
His teeth clenched.
He never was and never will be anything like his brother.
The only bond they had was by blood.
Nothing more.
Soul didn't like nor tolerated Wes.
He hated him.
So why was he always compared to him?
The manga doesn't really tell a lot about Soul and Wes' relationship, but I know it shows that Soul's intimidated by how great a player Wes is, and he feels like he never will be able to compare to him.
This sucks, I know. But this just popped up in my head.
I swear it looked 12000% better in my head.
This is also on my AO3 account.
Read, Review, Repeat Please.