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Please enjoy this first chapter; there will be 2 other chapters to this story!

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Disclaimer : I do not own Soul Eater

Soul

The first time I met her was on her 18th birthday.

Actually, the first time I saw her was on her 18th birthday, but we officially met about two weeks later. I'll admit, the first impression I had of her wasn't a good one, but I still ended up talking to her the next time we met.

It all started one Sunday morning, during my part-time job. I was finishing up my daily rounds, handing out newspapers throughout Death City, when I arrived at my last stop, the Shibusen Academy. The streets were calm and still bathed in the cool morning shadows as students were already walking up the endless stairway that led to the main entrance.

Parking the newspaper van at the foot of the stairs, I picked up the last two packages that I had to deliver and let out a long sigh as I started climbing towards my destination, one slow step at a time.

About halfway to the top, just when I was thinking that my arms were going to fall off if I didn't take a break soon, a very loud and whiny voice made me look up.

"MAKAAAAA!"

From the top of the stairs I could see a girl, about my age, stomping down the stairs in her battle-boots. She was a sandy blond, wearing the Shibusen uniform with her hair up in twin-pigtails and green eyes burning with anger. She looked down right pissed and ready to murder someone.

"MAKAAAA, WAIT! DADDY'S SORRYYYYY!"

The girl continued stomping down the stairs, completely ignoring the shouts, but the way her gloved hands balled up into fists, and the fact that she started grinding her teeth together, were a dead giveaway that she was this 'Maka'. A few seconds later I saw a tall and skinny man with flashy red hair, wearing a very grotesque birthday cake shaped hat on top of his head, running down the stairs after her.

"Don't be like that Maka sweetheart, you're going to make a scene."

The man dressed in a black suit, with a strange cross-shaped tie around his neck, had caught up to her. I decided to keep walking up to their level, watching the father and daughter from the sidelines.

"Maka, stop being stubborn, you're making a scene."

The blond abruptly stopped on the step she had just set foot on, whipping her head around to face her ridiculous looking father with furious green emerald eyes.

"I'm the one making a scene? That's rich coming from you! That was my CLASSMATE you were hitting on! And get that monstrosity OFF of your head!"

With the height difference between the two, and the fact that she was two steps lower than the man with a blinking birthday cake hat on his head, the girl had to tilt her head up to face him, but from my point of view the tall man seemed to shrink under her hard gaze. As I arrived next to the two, I heard her harsh tone dripping with disgust.

"Thank you for wishing me a happy birthday, but do NOT come to my school. Go find yourself a job instead."

With that, she turned around, leaving a very sad looking redhead standing there before he started going down the stairs again, screaming after her.

"MAKAAAAA…!"

Once they were out of earshot I finally reached the top, welcoming the cool breeze as I entered the large building to drop off my last delivery of the day. After this I had all the time in the world to go back to my apartment and sleep the day away.

Or so I thought. I had barely laid my face down on top of my pillow that my cell phone started ringing from the bottom of my jeans' pocket. Closing my eyes I decided to just let it go to voicemail. The fourth time it went off I buried my head into my pillow, using it as leverage to lift the top half of my body and go dig out the annoying thing from the bottom of my pants. Checking the caller ID I let out an exasperated grunt as the phone started ringing for the fifth time, the name 'Goody-two-shoes' appearing on the caller-ID. I definitely was NOT going to answer that, and silenced my phone before throwing it towards my dresser where it landed inside the laundry basket.

An hour later I was woken up by a continuous pounding on my front door. Sluggishly getting out of my bed, eyes half lidded with exhaustion and my mind fogged with sleep, I mechanically reached for the doorknob. Opening the door to my apartment had finally stopped the awful ruckus. I stared blankly at the newcomer… before slamming the door closed and heading back to bed. I let myself fall face first onto my covers, casing my head into my pillow to stifle the sounds if ever the pounding started again. Luckily it didn't. Unfortunately that didn't stop the unwanted guest from entering my home.

"Good to see you too little brother."

"Go away, Wes."

My voice was muffled by the pillow, but I knew he had heard me just fine.

"It's good to see you alive and kicking. And since you don't seem to have gone deaf or mute, you should be able to answer a phone."

"Battery's dead", I deadpanned.

He probably knew I was lying, but I honestly didn't care right now. I just wanted to go back to sleep. A complicated task since Wes didn't seem to notice that I was trying to ignore him, and thus prattled on :

"Your letterbox was empty, that means you must have seen the invitation that mother sent you two weeks ago. She's waiting for you to RSVP it."

"Burned it."

I heard him let out a long sigh before adding in a weary voice :

"Soul… "

I lifted my head from under the pillow, eyeing my older brother. Wes was leaning against my bedroom door, wearing a blue suit under a long brown coat, his white hair was combed back, a feat I've never been able to achieve with my own hair, and dark bags could be seen under his tired red eyes. If we didn't have a 10 years age gap, we probably could have been twins. I didn't actually hate my brother, and he was the only Evans that didn't treat me like I was a roach that they had accidently stepped on and that had sullied their shiny new Markowski dress shoes.

"What do you want, Wes?"

"The theater's pianist broke her arm last night and-"

"No."

"-AND I need to find a replacement for the party in two weeks."

I stuffed the pillow back over my head has he continued:

"You won't have to play during the garden party, but we need someone for the representation, and I know that you've worked on Swan Lake already."

I didn't move from my spot under the pillow, staying silent for a few minutes before he took that as a sign to go on, and spoke up again.

"If you agree, I could arrange it so that father's not around when you come to the theater to rehearse with the dancers."

I could only let out a long sight. Wes knew I would never refuse him a favor.

"Fine. But you owe me big time, Wes."

The next two weeks were quite uneventful. My brother had kept his word and the director of the theater, our father, was always out when I came for the daily rehearsals. My parents had always made Wes and I help out at the Death City's Evans Theater Hall. Let it be in the ticket booth, cleaning up after a show, helping out backstage or even filling out for a musician. Our father had told us that, one day, we will have to take over the business and needed to know just how everything worked if we wanted to keep it flourishing, to uphold the Evans' traditions and family name with honor. Good thing my brother was a 'reliable, talented and trustworthy son. A true Evans', as my father would put it. Because I certainly wasn't in his eyes, even if I did have the Evans white hair, red eyes and sharp teeth.

On the day of the party I decided to wear my black pinstriped suit with a red dress shirt. This wasn't a recital, and I wasn't counting on staying after the ballet since I had absolutely no intention of seeing my parents, but old habits die-hard so I took out the formal attire.

I knew every note by heart, every silence and crescendos, every beat and fermata,... and yet I was still nervous. When the curtains were drawn open my palms were getting sweaty as I let my shaking hands hover over the keys, waiting for the maestros' signal. When my fingers hit the first keys, they started moving on their own accord, each note hit to the perfection, none added and none left out. Before I knew it, it was over.

After the bows under thunderous applauses, I got up and tried mingling with the guests leaving the theater. I knew my plan had failed when someone in a dark gray suit grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards the twin glass doors leading to the garden party.

"Leaving so soon little brother? You did great! I'm sure mother and father would like to give you a word of praise."

Wes, ever the optimistic goody-two-shoes that wanted everyone to love and be at peace with each other. He was the only reason that I stayed until my 18th birthday at the Evans mansion, if it wasn't for his role as moderator in this family, I would have left before my 16th birthday.

As he pulled me along I took in a deep breath and put on my best poker face. Whatever my parents said, I would not let their words move me. All they will get is a bored blank stare from me, and if they really did praise me, maybe I could spare them a nod.

I noticed my father first. He was wearing a black tuxedo with a white dress shirt and a black bow tie, his white hair was combed back like Wes', and his ruby red eyes sparkled with amusement as he laughed at something, a glass of champagne in one hand while the other rested gently at the base of my mother's back. She was wearing a deep blue backless dress, with her honey colored hair held up in a complex bun. Her blue eyes spotted Wes and she pointed us out to my father as we closed in on them. When we stopped in front of them, my father turned around, his stoic mask was back on, giving us a curt nod as he greeted us.

"Wes, Soul."

Wes was the first to reply. I was just praying that my poker face would stay intact until this conversation, bound for disaster, ended.

"Hello mother, father. I ran into Soul on my way here. Wasn't his playing remarkable?"

I wanted to glare at my treacherous brother, but kept my cool and composed demeanor. I'd get my revenge later. My attention went back to my parents when my father surprised me by speaking up first:

"Yes, he did as good as Nygus would have."

I was concentrating really hard not to let anything show, but this was probably the closest thing to a compliment that I had ever gotten from my father. My budding feeling of joy was quickly squashed when my mother added:

"Yes, thank you Soul dear for covering for our poor pianist on such short notice. Breaking her arm one month before the 100 year anniversary of this theater really was bad luck."

This time I turned to my brother, raising one brow in question:

"One month, really? Then breaking her other arm two weeks ago… she must really have poor luck indeed."

From the corner of my eye I saw my parents look at me in confusion while my brother cleared his throat and started steering me away from the couple. When we were far enough I let my frown show, stuffing my hands into my pockets as I shrugged away from my brother's hold.

"A MONTH?"

"I'm sorry Soul, I was waiting for you to RSVP the invitation to tell you about it, but you never replied… You were the best pianist I knew that could pull it off in under a month, and look, I was right! Father even praised you!"

I stayed silent for a few minutes, scolding at the buffet behind him, the gears in my head working down the logic.

"When did mother send the invitations?"

For the first time in many years, I saw my brother sway from side to side, uncomfortable, hand scratching the back of his head as he looked away from me. Goody-two-shoes Wes Evans was a terrible liar, so he never lied. Instead he just dodged the questions by asking new ones:

"Does it matter? An invitation is an invitation."

Now I was getting pissed.

"Wes. When did mother send the invitation? Knowing her she probably had then mailed at LEAST two months before the date that the event was to be held."

"Fine…, don't be mad Soul. She sent them over three months ago."

"So she decided to invite me once she was in a pickle and needed another pianist?"

"Well…"

"Wes!"

"Alright! I'm the one that sent you the invite. Father put me in charge to find a pianist for this evening's show, so I thought of you. I am sorry Soul, I didn't know that she hadn't invited you until I checked the guest list when Nygus broke her arm."

"That's it. I'm leaving, see ya."

I turned around without waiting for a goodbye and headed towards the double glass doors. Anger boiled through me. They hadn't even bothered sending me an invitation to this stupid party. To be honest, even if they had, I probably wouldn't have gone, but still. It stung to know that their pianist had to break her arm one month before a grand ballet, and for their eldest son to ask me to fill in for said pianist, just for them to end up seeing me.

I was so caught up in my angered thoughts that I didn't notice that I had walked into one of the Concerto Halls. An ebony Grand Concert piano stood in the middle of the stage, and before I could stop myself, I hopped on the wooden platform and sat at the bench. My hands didn't hesitate a second as they flew to the keyboard, as if possessed. I needed to clear my mind, and playing the piano had always been the best remedy for me. So I started playing.

It began with a clang of notes, loud and long, letting all my frustration seep into this song. The melody was twisted and dark, fast paced and chaotic. I let all of my violent energy out onto the keys, letting them cry out in agony for me. Stripping my soul bare to pull out the hurt and the deceptions, the shame and the anger; I could feel a large grin forming on my lips as I let the dark melody pour out, losing my sanity to the fast pace of the harsh notes, not letting one finish before I made another sing. As the anger left me, the song slowed and the piano wept for me. The notes detached themselves from one another, alone and isolated, lonely. When I slowed the song to a stop I let the last note ring out throughout the empty theater, feeling calm and at peace again.

Figuring that all I could do now was to get back to my apartment and have a good night sleep, I got up and turned towards the doors, freezing up in front of a silhouette. My eyes widened and I felt heat rise to my face. Someone had heard me play, someone had heard that dark and twisted song that made my own parents look at me with disgust. Someone was… crying?

Looking closer at the intruder, I noticed that it was a girl wearing a strapless black dress that stopped at her mid-thighs, her blond hair was down and the golden tips brushed the top of her shoulders as curled bangs framed her face. She seemed vaguely familiar, with her big green eyes shining with moisture as another tear rolled down her cheek.

"I know it was bad, but crying is a bit much, no?"

This was so uncool. I was embarrassed and horrified at the same time. When she seemed to register my words, she slightly shook her head and brought her hands up to her face to wipe her tears away.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I got lost looking for the bathroom and then I heard the piano and got curious. Sorry about the crying, it was so beautiful, in a lonely haunting kind of way, that the tears just started falling."

She finished drying her eyes and cheeks before giving me a bright smile.

I was floored. Rendered speechless. Someone had just complimented one of my songs instead of calling it a profanity or an abomination. Over half of my family thought I was deranged to come up with such dark and chaotic melodies. And the other half probably just wanted to see me thrown into the loony bin. She must have seen the bewilderment on my face because after that she extended her hand, giving me a small apologetic smile.

"I'm Maka. Maka Albarn."

That's when it hit me. She was Maka, the pissed off pigtailed girl that I had seen in front of the Shibusen Academy about two weeks ago, no wonder she seemed familiar. I reached for her hand and shook it firmly.

"Soul Eater."

"That's a weird name, but it's nice to meet you Soul."

She gave me another sincere smile before letting my hand go. This girl was something. I hadn't meant to give her, or anyone else for that matter, this insight on my shady song, but she had understood the obscure, fragile and lonely part of my soul when my own family members only saw chaotic notes and an unstable mind. I felt my lips twitch into a full wolfish smile.

"Let's make a deal then, Maka. You swear to never tell a soul about my music, and I'll escort you to the nearest bathroom."

I would like to give a big shout out to MahestiraKinasi and Elisablackcat, thank you for the Fav/Follow and Review ! :) It made me all giddy and happy :D

Yes I'm a total newbie at this and I jump with glee every time someone reads my story, and do a happy dance when someone Reviews/Favs/Follows, so thank you to EllieBloodStain, Twany Haired Wild Flower, winowa-san, Shadowhunterchronicleslover13, DauntlessSoul, zoogirl3715 and Jmann23!