A/N: Thanks to everyone who favourited! Here is the next chapter, enjoy!

"YAHOO!"

Soul just sighed and focused on the road in front of him. His best friend, Black Star, was yelling and waving his fist around from behind him. They were on Soul's brand new bright orange motorcycle – a generous gift from his brother. As soon as Black Star had heard of the gift, he immediately wanted to take it for a test drive. It was top-of-the line: nothing less than expected from an Evans. It glided around corners perfectly and he didn't feel like he would lose control, not even when going fast. Soul knew his parents would hate it, which is exactly why he'd wanted one. They'd say it was 'common' and 'unbecoming of a young man'. Wes understood his brother's desire to rebel, to not be associated with the family. Soul knew Wes cared for him, but he couldn't help resenting him, despite this fact.

The houses of Death City whipped past in a blur of colour as they raced through the streets. His white hair was whipping around his head like a halo. Soul began to slow down once he saw the approaching lights of the convenience store. It had begun to get dark, and the street lights were just flickering on. He knew that if he'd still been living with his parents, he would have had a stern lecture waiting for him at home.

He stopped the motorcycle, and Black Star jumped off.

"That was awesome!" he yelled. He didn't seem to have a softer tone, Soul had noticed. "Your brother is so cool, dude!"

He just shrugged. "It's just my family being my family. They don't like to talk to me, but giving me presents seems to get rid of the guilt in their minds."

"But you get awesome stuff," Black Star said. "So everyone wins."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Everyone wins."

He knew his parents' expectations. He knew everybody's expectations. Soul felt guiltier every time his family did something like this, knowing that he'd never quite meet those expectations. He didn't mention this to Black Star, though. Hanging out with him tended to make him forget about his responsibilities.

"Man, I'm hungry. Let's go, Soul." Black Star announced loudly. He turned and marched straight into the convenience store, just like he had a million times. Begrudgingly, Soul followed.

Soul walked over to where the drinks were stored, and considered the choices before him. His favourite energy drink was where it always was, in a bright green can on the second shelf. His mind began to wander slightly, and when he came to, he realised he'd been thinking of Maka. Of her green eyes. He shook his head, and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

I should really sleep more. He opened the fridge door and reached for the can, and let the door slam shut. He turned and scanned the store quickly, looking for the bright turquoise of his friend's hair. He was down the other end of the shop, near the pie warmers. His brow was furrowed, as if he were concentrating. Soul walked over to him.

"Don't strain yourself," Soul said. "Your one brain cell might explode."

"How many pies do you think I could eat before I threw up?" he asked suddenly.

"I dunno. I could probably beat you, though."

"No way. I'm a god. You can't defeat me."

Soul snorted. "Okay, then. Whoever can eat the most without puking gets to drive the motorcycle home."

"You're on." He said, rubbing his hands together. "Prepare to lose, Soul."

"Don't get too cocky." Said Soul, sliding the plastic door open and reaching for the pies. There was no way that this would end well for either of them.

Maka Albarn spent her evenings in an entirely different way. Most afternoons, she would stay at the school. She would stay until closing time, sometimes practicing, sometimes completing homework for her theory classes in the library.

Then, after she'd been kicked out, she'd walk the long way home, back to the apartment she shared with her father. Her father, Spirit Albarn, was the source of a fair amount of pain for the teenager. Many people were envious of her position – daughter of a famous, well-esteemed musician, who worked for the school. He also worked at Death City's official performing arts company, but preferred to spend most of his time working with the students at Shibusen. This was, as Maka believed, mainly because he was good friends with the school's principal, and because he wanted to be closer to his daughter.

Maka, however, had very little respect for her father. Her parents' divorce had been due to his cheating ways, and he often tried to atone for this by trying to "look after" her. She called it smothering. However, she knew his intentions were good. He just wasn't very good at the whole 'actions' things.

She would have preferred to live with her mother, but presently, that wasn't an option. Her mother had been very young when she'd had Maka, and still had a few years of her dancing career left. As much as Maka knew her mother loved her, she knew that she loved to dance more than anything. Maka understood this and aspired to one day be as brilliant as her mother. She had a long way to go.

She often told herself not to be too disheartened. She had been accepted into Shibusen. Although, she knew that it was partly because of who her parents were. Maka almost resented them a little; but she knew she shouldn't. She couldn't help who her parents were.

This evening, when she walked back alone, she noticed the first change in the weather. It was cooler tonight, and she knew now that autumn was approaching. It wasn't completely black yet, but the sky had crept into a dark blue. She could see some of the street lights beginning to flicker on. She could hear the afternoon cries of magpies throughout Death City, and a cool, gentle breeze ruffled her pigtails. She lifted her chin to the sky, and pulled her coat around her tightly. It wasn't the kind of cold you could hate, though. It was pleasant. It somehow seemed transitionary – as if it were promising a change. Maka could do with a change.

"Too many…pies…" Black Star groaned.

"I didn't even think there was such a thing." Soul moaned beside him. He was sitting on the curb outside of the convenience store, clutching his stomach in pain. Soul had stopped after six pies but Black Star had managed to eat five more than him.

"You know…what this means," he said into the concrete. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his stomach.

"Black Star," Soul puffed. "You're in no condition to drive my motorcycle."

He struggled to sit up, making a 'thumbs up' sign to his friend. "I can drive just fine."

Soul raised his eyebrows and stood up slowly, waiting to see if he would be hit by a wave of nausea. When none came, he straightened up, and turned to his pitiful friend on the ground below him. He bent down and grabbed him under his arms, and attempted to hoist him up.

"Jesus, Black Star, you're like a tonne of fucking bricks," Soul panted, dropping his friend back down on the concrete.

"You're just a weakling, Soul Eater. You can't lift my godly body."

"Need a hand?" a voice said from behind him.

Soul whipped around, searching for the owner of the voice. He recognised her instantly – ashy blonde pigtails and bright, wide eyes. She was wearing her school uniform and had her bag slung over her right shoulder, as well as a small plastic bag in her left hand.

Maka had stopped at the convenience store on the way home, craving chocolate milk. She clutched the bag to her body as she nervously awaited Soul's answer. She cursed herself internally – she wasn't even friends with him. He probably thought she was a major loser, anyway.

"Uh," Soul stuttered. "Sure." He sounded dubious – she was tiny. How on earth would she lift Black Star?

"Okay," Maka said, dropping her bag on the ground and placing the plastic bag on top of it. She rolled up the sleeves of her school blazer and walked to Black Star's left side, opposite to Soul. With all her might, she managed to lift him off the concrete. Soul wrapped one of Black Star's arms around his neck and Maka did the same.

Whoa, she's stronger than she looks.

Slowly, they brought him over to the motorcycle, while Black Star groaned. They reached Soul's motorcycle, and Maka let go, letting Black Star lean against the motorcycle, still supported by Soul.

"Thanks," said Soul.

"No problem," she said, rolling her shoulders. "I just hope your friend is okay."

"Black Star?" Soul snorted. "He's a complete idiot. He'll be fine. In fact, I hope it'll teach him not to eat eleven pies."

Black Star moaned in response and gave Maka a thumbs-up and a weak grin. Maka just gave him a disapproving look.

"Is that your motorcycle?" Maka asked, her eyebrows raised in disapproval. "Are you alright to drive that with him? It doesn't look very...safe."

"Yeah, it's fine," he said. "My brother gave it to me."

"Oh, right," she said, taking her eyes off the offensive orange bike. "Your brother's Wes, right? My dad loves his work."

"Unfortunately," Soul confirmed.

"He seems like a nice guy," Maka prompted.

"He is," Soul said shortly. Maka stared at him, as if she were waiting for an explanation. She shifted uncomfortably when Soul just stared back, not giving her an answer.

"So…?"

"It's none of your business." He snapped.

"Right," she said eventually, looking a little hurt. "Well, I've got to get home. My dad is waiting for me and he freaks out if I'm home too late."

"Yeah," said Soul, feeling a little bad for not answering her question. "I've got to get this idiot home. Later, Maka."

"See you at school, then." She replied, walking back over to her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. She turned her back to him and began the walk home.

Soul stared after her for a moment, guilt swelling in his chest. Black Star moaned again, and he decided an apology could wait until tomorrow. He didn't really want to be puked on by Black Star. He sat on the motorcycle and slung his friend on his back, kicking the motorcycle into gear.