SOUL'S POV

Listening to the drone of the weather man, Soul stared at the fuzzy television screen as purple, green and red colors swirled over the state of Nevada. A few tea-light candles were spread out on the coffee table, for Soul had been prepared for an electricity outage.

Wrinkling his nose, he began to stretch across the leather sofa, exhausted from the day's work at the academy; Stein insisted on dissecting some sort of endangered species that Soul had never seen. It was some sort of monkey crossed with a parrot, and in honest truth, Soul hadn't even paid attention during the time, for he was sleeping soundly to the dull voice of his teacher. Maka and Ox were trying to talk the professor out of the experiment, and it seemed to take a whole hour to debate with the adult until he finally gave in and noticed that their class was nearing to an end.

Fluttering his eyes open, he realized he was dozing. Running his hands through his soft, white hair, Soul looked back to the television and glanced at the digital clock beneath.

9:23 PM. It's not that late and I'm already dozing; this is so, not cool.

Folding his hands on his muscled abdomen, he listened to the rain pitter-patter on the roof of the apartment complex, a song of nature seeming to play just for him until he heard the door to his apartment creak open.

Looking over the seat cushion, he spotted Maka, with her clothes clinging to her athletic body and her hair dripping with rainwater.

Shifting uncomfortably, Soul looked back to the television, keeping his eyes off his unexpected roommate.

What's Maka doing here on a weekend? And why the hell did he feel so uncomfortable, looking at his Meister while her clothes were clinging to her body, making her small curves stand out? Why was he even contemplating this at all? This is so not cool, man…

"Hey Maka, glad you came back in, the storm nearing Death City is only seeming to get worse...," after he said this, he got a sarcastic response from Maka before she hurried into the bathroom. Locking his jaw and biting his tongue, he narrowed his eyes at the television and continued to stare as colors flickered on the screen.

The rain-pour got noticeably heavier as the static on the television grew worse. Finally, Soul turned the television off and meandered through his thoughts, ignoring the protesting scream from his stomach that urged him to scrounge up something to eat from the kitchen.

Picking up the similar beat to one of his favorite songs, he recognized it right away and got the lyrics in his head perfectly as he matched it to the beat of Maka's humming.

Since when did Maka like Five Finger Death Punch? Weird… I would've expected a girl like her to listen to country music rather than the genres I listen to… what was that girl's name? Taylor Swift?

Shrugging this off, Soul turned to his side and gazed at the yellow and orange candles that were laid out on the table, and beyond that, a window reflecting rain droplets that flowed down the clear glass; a boundary between the real world and home.

Strange… why would Maka resort to living in the apartment instead of being with her father at her own, perfectly fine house? Did something happen? Or did she just come here because it was the closest place she could get shelter from the storm? Whatever it is, I hope she doesn't have another grand entrance like that again, wet clothes and all.

Cringing, Soul cursed himself for thinking like that about his Meister before knitting his eyebrows together, trying to shove that out of his mind before worse things popped into his head.

Instead, he just listened to the lullaby of Maka's humming that accompanied the sound of the rain, dragging him beneath the dark waves of sleep.


3:06 AM

A loud crash of thunder jolted the teen awake from his nightmare in the black and red-tiled ballroom.

Dammit! I fell asleep on the couch…

Pushing his torso off the cushions, Soul groggily looked around the room. Every light was turned off and the candles had burned out, the smell of pumpkin and cinnamon wafting in the room. Looking at the old VHS below the television, he proved the answer that the electricity was out, for the clock was but just a dull grey.

Setting his feet on the carpet, Soul sat in the dark for was seemed like several minutes, listening to the storm rage on before he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and drew his attention to the kitchen, desperate for food since he skipped dinner last night. Of course, with the electricity out, all the food in the fridge would be going bad, so he resorted to simple, dry cereal.

After pouring the cereal in the bowl, he flicked the orange tiger on the cereal box before heading to his room with a lighted candle in his other hand.

Huffing out a sigh, Soul sat on his bed and set the candle on his dresser, munching on the frosted flakes as he gazed out the window.

Why the hell does it rain in Nevada? You wouldn't think it would, since it's mostly covered in desert, but no, it rains just as much as any other state would… It's retarded in my opinion.

Grabbing the Ipod off his wooden dresser, he scrolled through songs and set the volume to low so he could still hear that soothing sound of the rain hitting the apartment.

"Close your eyes… so many days go by… easy to find what's wrong; harder to find what's right…"

Soul whispered out these words as the song played, a low drumming in his ears sounded as he watched rain droplets crawl down the window sill.

Contemplating on the recurring nightmare, Soul continued the lyrics and replayed the dream.

A ballroom with black and red tiles patterned the floor while Soul sat on a mahogany piano bench; a grand, black piano shone in the dim light of the candles that dotted the room, was set before the teen. He, himself, was dressed in a fine, pinstriped suit with a red dress shirt and satin tie while his shoes were that of black loafers; a classy getup for a "cool" guy like himself.

He had just finished a slow and melodic song that he had learned to play as a child in his home, bearing memories long forgotten as black electricity snaked around his wrists and fingers and slithered along the stainless white keys of the piano. His hands grew pale as the last note was played, and a cackle came from Soul's right.

The red imp he had seen so many times before stood in the same position, his wide smile stretching across his face. His glowing yellow irises were staring into Souls, and before Soul could understand what was going on, the demon snapped his fingers and he could feel his lungs tighten while his chest squeezed- the madness began seeping in. "Come with me; overwhelming madness and power await..."

However, he would always wake before the dream progressed, and Soul would shrug it off.

Ever since Soul had been sliced open from Chrona's weapon, Ragnarok, his blood had been infiltrated and replaced with that of the black blood. The side effect of all this was the nightmare that came to him every night; the same ballroom came to him, the same big, brass doors that led to dark emptiness until he finally came out of Maka's stomach. And as always, he would catch sight of that demonic imp that encouraged the madness to take over.

Staring at the candle flame, he pinched the bridge of his nose while he shook the dream out of his head and replaced that with his younger self, a boy sitting with his older brother, listening to him play the sad music of a violin.

"I can see right through all your empty lies… I won't last long in this world so wrong. Say goodbye as we dance with the devil tonight; don't you dare look at him in the eye…," Soul continued to mutter the song to himself, unable to keep the words in as he ate the remnants of the cereal.

His brother, Wes, always had the upper hand in between the two siblings; piano suited Soul, while Wes kept to the violin- but despite the difference between the instruments, Wes was always the better between the two- always the one to be looked up to. Soul, who didn't always have the good grades or the greatest musical touch, was always pushed to become better, was always pushed to his limits, but his limits just weren't enough.

When he found out his true specialty as a weapon came about him, he fled from home, taking his chances to leave and live a life that suited his standards; a life that kept his sanity intact.

But with all the black blood and the relentless quarreling with the little demon he's come across, the dream to be normal and stress-free was taken away.

Well, why would I have expected different?

Soul grabbed the guitar off the faded yellow wall, picked up the pick and began to play the song repeatedly until morning came.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Hey guys; updated another chapter for ya. I might just update this one later in case I feel the need to change a few things or have a grammatical error…

I tried my best in this one, so please, opinions matter to me; I'd appreciate reviews, comments and whatnot, even if you hate the story with a passion. TELL ME… O.O

Thanks for reading!