Disclaimer: I don't own Soul Eater or the characters, but I will claim this AU as part of my Rain-Soaked Tears story.

Prompt #5: Record - Biting her lip, Maka hoped she didn't screw up as she set needle to vinyl.

Words: 788

Maka looked around furtively before opening the cabinet doors wide. She didn't want Soul to walk in on her looking through his vinyl collection. But Soul wasn't home. Today was Wednesday, and that was when he was out giving piano lessons to somebody in Death City (was it Molly today? Or Charles? Or Mortimor? He had quite a few clients and she couldn't remember who was on what day yet) That meant he was out of the apartment for at least three hours. Plenty of time to be nosy and not get caught.

An hour later, Maka was surrounded by records and eagerly reading every sleeve. The records to be a fascinating window into her albino roommate's strange taste in music. Everything was some sort of jazz or classical piece, none of which were familiar to her, and every single one featured the piano in one way or another.

One record in particular caught her eye. It had no elaborate cover art on the sleeve, only a handwritten tag that read "Clair de Lune, Debussy, C., S.E" in an elegant script. Curious about the contents - her limited knowledge of French told her that Clair de Lune meant "moonlight" and she remembered reading a poem of the same name once upon a time - Maka set the vinyl disc on the record player and gently set the needle on the outermost ring as she'd seen Soul do.

What followed could only be described as entrancing. Despite the title, the piano seemed to hold a darkness that reminded Maka of Soul's own playing. No wonder this one is here, she thought. A classical piece that has the same style as he does -

"That's not right!"

Maka jumped in shock at the harsh masculine voice that burst from the speaker. The music came to a discordant halt, like the musician snatched his or her hands off the keys mid-note. Maka frowned at the record, then looked at the plain sleeve. "A home recording?" she mumbled.

"You've played this piece almost fifty times and you still fuck up at the coda? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I - I wanted to make it better," came another voice, younger and softer and apologetic. A timid voice that clearly painted the picture of a cowering child, flinching from the yelling older male.

"You're not good enough to embellish, so don't!" yelled the first male voice. "Play the music as it's written! None of this make-it-up shit! Now do it again!"

"Y-Yes sir."

"I thought he got rid of that one." Maka flinched at the sound of Blair's voice behind her, but the busty waitress wasn't reproachful. Her bare feet made no sound as she joined Maka in front of the record player. "He was eight when that happened."

"Wait, the second voice was Soul?" Maka asked, astonished. "So the other man is..."

"His father, yeah. My uncle. Hoity-toity stick-in-the-mud with a matching stick shoved up his tight ass." Blair's caustic voice made the younger girl recoil in surprise. "He's a grand concert pianist too, an international sensation before he was thirty, and he was always hard on Soul to be as perfect a genius as he was."

Maka listened as the child Soul replayed the beautiful piece once more, noticing how he played slightly slower and more deliberately than before. "It still sounds beautiful."

"Agreed." Blair sighed. "I know it's weird to say, but...I was so happy when he finally left that place. Soul never really had a life before he ran away from home. All my uncle never cared about was making him ready and pushing him onto the world stage as quickly as possible."

"He was a fool."

"Damn right." She favored Maka with a smile before hugging her tightly and saying, "Thanks for giving him a reason to play again."

Maka awkwardly patted Blair's shoulder until she ended the embrace. "I doubt it's just because I'm here," she said fairly, lifting the needle and taking the disc off the player.

"Yeah. But I sure did miss hearing Soul play." Silence filled the room again as she watched Maka replace the records in the cabinet. "Hey, Maka?"

"What is it, Blair?"

"You know...it's really because you're here that Soul is playing again." Blair smiled knowingly and added, "And Soul doesn't play for just anyone, if you know what I mean."

Thinking that the purple-haired woman was teasing her again, Maka merely shook her head and continued tidying up. She had a few more chores to do before dinner.

I meant this to be cute! Why the hell did it turn into a sad peek at Soul's childhood? WHY?

Oh well, review anyway!