Ah, I've found one of the aspects of Soul's character I love most. The second-best pianist. See, this is where I can relate to him, and I seriously understand how it is to be second fiddle to people who 'seemingly' always win, get what they want, etc. So, I thought it might be fun to explore that part of him, just for shits and giggles.

BTW: Wes really is his brother's name, and yes, Soul does have a brother. It's in the manga, sweethearts, I promise you.

NOTE: This is all in Soul's P.O.V. and I warn you now, he's full of teen angst. xD

Anyways, S.E isn't mine still. Dammit, I thought if I sold Ohkubo my body he'd hand it over. Oh well. ;D Enjoy.

They're all talking about me.

I can hear them as I walk by, a scowl plastered on my face. I hate every one of these people, they shouldn't be in my house in the first place. They all stand around, sipping their wine and talking with one another. Talking about the one thing I've never hated more.

Music.

"Oh yes, I even heard Wes was ranked first in nationals!" Some brown-haired woman in a long purple gown blabs to a man, her face lighting up at Wes's name on her lips.

The man looks surprised at her words, swirling his wine glass as he questions her. "Really? Even without a partner, or even a band?"

"Of course! Sadly, the brother only placed third in the lower divisions." She replies, almost disdainfully.

I glare at her as I storm by, making sure she knows it was "the brother" who's walking by her as I step on her dress. I grin as it gives a rather loud 'rip' under my shoe, and she gasps, whipping around to acess her damage.

What can I say? She had it coming.

"Soul!"

I sigh loudly as I look up at my older brother, who's grinning proudly, a hand in his pocket as he walks up to me. How I'd like to sock his face right now…

"Did you hear mother? She wants us to play f—"

"No." I automatically reply. Everyone already knows Wes is better than me. Why give them any reason to doubt it? Wes has been beating my ass in music ever since I first learned to play, which isn't a surprise. Not many people like what I play.

"No?" He frowns, tilting his head a bit. Fuck, why does he look so much like me?

I nod anyway, glaring a bit. "That's what I said. No."

He sighs, shaking his head at me, as if I'm a small child.

"Mother's not going to be very pleased."

"Neither will father. Not like I care. You play." You're better than me anyway, I almost add, but why add more fuel to the fire?

Wes clicks his tongue before patting me on the shoulder, something I quickly snarl at. He pulls away rather fast, offering me a tiny smile, to which I only scoff at. I don't need his sympathy, and I don't need any more people judging me.

He takes off, and I snort as I wonder around past more people, who obviously know my name and what I do. They talk about how wonderful my brother is, and how only "alright" I am in comparison. You'd think after years of getting this, I'd be pretty used to being the younger, not-as-great brother, but I'm not.

It's probably because I know the fact that we're also a weapon family, and the fact I've recently found out I'm a scythe. Either way, that's something greater then my stupid brother could ever know, he's so meek, he couldn't possibly pass for a scythe like me.

I push my way past a few more people, until I'm out in the greeting hall, where I can only hear the echoes of voices and laughter and music.

Finally. Alone at last.

Heaving a sigh to myself, I walk over to the grand piano that sits here. Those black and white keys are almost screaming for me to play them, and seeing as no one's around, I suppose I could give into temptation, maybe just this once.

I smirk as I tug at my pinstripe dress pants, and take a seat at the piano bench. Instantly, I find my hands ghosting over the keys, before they settle on two opposite sides of the piano. A grin tugs my lips as I play one of my favorite notes, a G, before I carelessly let my hands wonder the piano, playing whatever I feel.

I get so absorbed in my playing that I jump nearly two feet into the air at the sound of footsteps. I instantly slam the coverboard of the piano down, biting my lip as I slowly turn my head over my shoulder. At this point, if it's my mother, or brother behind me…

But, there stands a girl, with blond pigtails. She's not dressed for one of my parents' parties in the slightest. She's wearing a black trench coat, funky boots, a short skirt, and a white dress shirt with a vest. Confused, I completely turn around to raise a brow at her.

"That was amazing." She breathes.

I scoff. I'm not interested in what she thinks right now. "Who are you?"

She sticks out a creamy hand with a smile. I must admit, she pretty cute, in like, a little eight year-old kinda way. I give her hand a small shake, before taking my own hand back. Her hands are tiny compared to my pianist ones, I notice.

"I'm Maka. Maka Albarn."

Albarn. Why is that name so familiar?

"Albarn? As in, Death Scythe's daughter?"

She instantly cringes, her face in a scowl. Huh. Seems like she understands how I feel with my last name, too.

"Don't refer to me as his daughter…" She mutters, looking purely disgusted. I'm liking her so far.

I can't help a small hoot of a laugh I give, and she smiles a tiny bit. Good, at least she's not afraid of me, that's always a plus with the ladies.

"So, you're an Evans' son?"

I instantly roll my eyes. "It's Soul. I don't like titles."

Maka smiles a bit more. I like her smile. It's not fake, like the other guests' here. It's meaningful, the way her green eyes glint along with it.

I think that was the moment I put my trust in her, when I gave her a lopsided grin as I turned back to the piano.

"This is the kinda guy I am."

And I begin to play for her. No strings attached, I simply play. A piece I'd written, of course, but a dark, mysterious tone, too, like any piece I write. My fingers dance across the keys, and I can only picture her amazed face. It brings a wider grin to my face as the song reaches its crescendo, the key strokes getting faster, louder.

This is a musicians' high; The top of their piece, the awe of their crowd.

Once I finish, Maka breathes rather loudly, almost in gasps. I glance at her, making sure she didn't hurt herself listening or something lame like that. But she merely stands there like before, her mouth agape, a hand pressed where her heart resides.

"You're, really good." She finally sputters.

I smirk at her, whipping my white bangs from my eyes to see her clearly. She's holding her hand out again, but it's not for a handshake, it's more like an offering. She smiles that true little smile again, and I raise a brow.

"You lookin' for a weapon?" I ask, bluntly.

She only smiles wider, like I answered her silent question. "You lookin' for a partner?"

I grin, before shaking my head. She looks hurt, but that's only until I yank on her hand, pulling myself up to stand in front of her.

"Nah, I've already got one."

She giggles, a soft sound, but I still hear it as her small hand holds mine. I glance at her once again, my crimson eyes locking on those perfect green orbs.

I'm pretty sure this is the moment I devoted my body and soul to this girl.

w You know you like how I managed to squeeze Maka in here. You know you do. It just came ta me, y'know? xD

Anyway, like I said before, this aspect of Soul is something I really understand, and I loved being able to connect with that part of the character when I wrote this. I think that's what makes him my fave, that fact we're both never good enough—in music, that is.

Mmm, so if you could please leave me a review to know you care, that'd be nice. :3 Thank you!