Omg, chapter 7 already? The story is unfolding like craaaaazy... Even if we've gotten basically nowhere near the fun romance-y part yet :/. Wow, this'll be the longest story I've ever posted.

Luna: Come on Monica, get your shit together.

Hey! You're not supposed to be in this story.

Luna: ...Fuck, you're right.


He tossed angrily in his sleep, murmuring strange phrases and nonsensical combinations of letters. His eyes were shut so tightly that his face began to scrunch. His hands curled into the ebony bedsheets, grabbing fistfuls of the fabric. It was happening again.

Soul found himself inside a small room. It was dimly lit, the only sources of light being the small white candles scattered about the room. The floors were tiled in a checker-board pattern, only with red where the white tiles should have been. The walls were a deep crimson color, apart from the black substance seeming to seep from the ceiling and roll down the wall. He knew where he was. It was a place he had visited many times in his nightmares. He had named it the Black Room.

He found himself in the same pin-striped suit that he always adorned in this room. His usual black headband was absent, leaving his unruly hair to fall however it pleased. The smooth jazz music filled his ears, signalling that it was time for the Little Demon to come. Soul watched as the little red man danced his way into the room, beady yellow eyes alight with some twisted sense of joy. The horns atop his head were dripping with the same black substance covering the walls.

The Little Demon didn't speak a word. He merely gestured to the slick black grand piano in the center of the room. Soul raised an eyebrow. He hadn't remembered seeing it when he first walked in, so where had it come from? He stepped towards it with caution, as if it would transform into some grotesque monster and attack him at any moment. Once he had reached the bench and it showed no intentions of harm him, Soul decided to take a seat.

He pressed one of the keys, listening to the low note that rang out in the room. He smirked wondering how long it had been sense he had last played. He began a simple tune, a little haunting melody that had been one of his favorites in his time of playing. The song filled the room, cancelling out any noise. It was dark and twisted, yet held a sense of beauty that was so unique and interesting. Soul was too focused on his playing to notice the Little Demon changing its shape beside him.

In fact, he didn't notice much of anything until the piano's fall board came slamming down atop his fingers. His scarlet eyes widened as he let out a yelp of pain. He retracted his fingers, whirling on the person who had disrupted his playing with a snarl. The face he was met with, however, wasn't one he was expecting.

In front of him stood his mother, tight lipped, brows set into a permanent scowl. Shock overtook the teen's features as he stared at her dumbly. She scoffed, turning her nose up and away from him in a display of her distaste. Her arms crossed over her chest, adding to her disapproving look.

"You'll never learn, will you boy?" His mother spat. "You and your ridiculous compositions will never be as good as Wesley."

Soul snapped out of his shock at having heard those words. He glared at the woman, standing up a bit too fast and causing the piano bench to tip. It clattered to the ground, adding to the tense atmosphere of the room. His fists clenched at his sides, fingernails digging deep into his palms. "Why must you always compare me to him?"

His mother turned to meet his gaze, glaring back at him with cold eyes. "Because he isn't the reason your father is dead."

Soul gasped, shooting into an upright sitting position. His eyes shot open, revealing him to be back in his room. An exhasperated sigh escaped his lips. His head fell into his hands, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It was that same dream again. His mother's words still echoed in his mind.

"Because he isn't the reason your father is dead."

Those were the very same words she had spoken to him the night that he had left home. It hurt him to think about, no matter how much he tried to tell himself that he didn't care. The cold look in her eyes when she spoke only broke him down further. He had always blamed himself, and then he knew that they had all blamed him too. If only he would have run like they told him to... Maybe his father would still be here.

After his father's death, his mother began to change. She no longer greeted him at the door when he got home from school. She was hardly around at all anymore, eventually hiring care-takers for the house. Soul and Wesley hardly spoke to each other, and the three of them had began to avoid each other at all costs. They were all devastated by the events of that day, choosing to deal with it in isolation.

A few years later when they arrived home from school, things changed drastically. Their mother was waiting for them with a cheery smile, arms folded behind her back. Soul was about to question her odd behavior when she told them the news. They would each be taking up instrument lessons. They were excited at first, Wes choosing the violin and Soul choosing the piano. Everything went smoothly. Their mother was very proud of their progress, which was enough for each of them to keep playing.

But things had a history of not going according to plan in the Evans family. Their mother started to make them practice for unhealthy amounts of time until they had completely mastered their pieces. Wes, being the older of the two, was doing a bit better at keeping up with the songs, and eventually started doing concerts. Soul, on the otherhand, grew bored of the concert music and began composing his own songs. He spent months composing a beautiful, twisted piece. He was so very proud of it, having put his heart and soul into perfecting it.

One day he had decided to show his mother the song he had written, wishing for nothing more than a satisfactory response from her. That most definitely was not the case. He was punished harshly for creating such 'garbage', as she had called it. She yelled at him that he should be more like Wes, who only composed sweet, beautiful melodies. His style was much too dark for her 'elegant tastes'.

That was the first big fight they had had. There were many, many more afterwards, usually resulting in objects being thrown or slamming of doors. The largest and most memorable argument seemed to be an all out war in the Evans household. That was the night that his mother blamed his father's murder on him. That was the night that Soul packed his things and left without a trace, not bothering to leave a letter or say any good-byes.. That was the night he had found Death City MX park and his entire life seemed to change.

Soul sighed to himself. His eyes swivelled to look at his digital clock. It read three AM in bold red numbers. A groan escaped his lips. He knew there was no way in hell that he wound be able to sleep now. He muttered a string of curses under his breath as he tore the blankets from himself. His shirt and pants were absent, leaving him clad in a pair of blue boxers. He drug his feet all the way to the fridge, opening it to scan the inside. Much to his dismay, the crate of Monster energy drinks he saved for these kind of days was completely empty.

He glared at the empty crate, slamming the fridge door shut. He swore he heard something bust inside the fridge, but he was way too exhausted to worry about that right then. He stumbled his way back into his room. He angrily dug through drawers, finding a pair of basketball shorts and a white v-neck to throw on.

Soul decided to make a quick run to the gas station up the road for some energy drinks. He knew his truck was out of gas, which caused him to groan. Why couldn't he ever remember to fill up the damn thing? He slapped himself a few times to wake himself up fully, doing ten or so jumping jacks for good measure. The lock to his shed was extremely hard to see in the dark, which resulted in Soul putting the code in around seventeen times before he finally got it correctly.

"Fucking finally." He muttered, yanking the door open.

The pitbike seemed to be his best option at the moment. He really didn't feel like wasting the gas in his 450 on an energy drink run. It rolled out easily, a little Suzuki 110. He straddled the small bike, giving the kickstarter one good go before it roared to life. It was a shocking contrast to the still silence of the early morning.

Soul dropped a few gears into fourth and took off, relying on the large track lights to guide him out safely. He made it near the road, choosing to stay on the grassy part beside the road rather than the pavement. The cool wind cut across his face as he zoomed into town. The gas station wasn't too far away, which came in handy during these instances. Surprisingly, they happened a little more often than he'd like.

He took a short-cut through a rough little neighborhood. There were several apartments all lined up beside each other. The top floors all had their own little balconies, which Soul didn't really see the point in. Weren't balconies supposed to be for nice views and fresh air? The only thing to see were more apartments, and the air wasn't all that fresh around this part of town.

Soul took a few more seconds to ponder the thought, watching the balconies as they came into his vision as if it would help him come up with some kind of answer. Something caught his attention on one, though. A figure stepped through the sliding glass door, closing it gently with a backpack hanging from their shoulder. He wondered what the hell they could possibly be doing at this time of night... morning... whatever. The street lights provided enough light for Soul to recognize the figure as a petite girl. The closer he got, he could tell that her hair was an ash blonde color, falling down to about her shoulders. He caught a flash of green and something clicked inside his mind. He skidded to a halt in the middle of the road, whirling his bike around to face the balcony.

"Maka?"


Merrr, cliff-hanger. Don't worry, I'll upload tomorrow! Okay, so slightly depressing chapter. Weeell, at least there was a bit of humour in that last chapter, right? Heh, heh. Things are about to get interesting. Or are they? Muahaha. Jk, they are.