A/N: This chapter's a little shorter than the rest, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

"Oi, Maka!" He had been waiting near her locker the next morning, hoping to catch her before class. The hallway was fairly packed, with people running back and forth, people sitting on the floor, trying to finish their homework before class started. It was loud, and Soul disliked it. He knew he wouldn't have been able to find her just by chance, and decided to wait for her.

"Oh," she said, eyes widening in surprise at the figure in front of her. She'd had her head down, her eyes looking at the floor, and hadn't noticed him waiting for her. "Hey, Soul. What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to apologise for being rude yesterday," he said.

"It's no big deal, Soul." She said, focusing on entering the combination into her locker.

"No," he said. "Cool guys shouldn't act like that."

"Um," she said, yanking her locker door open. She began emptying books from her bag into her locker, and trading them for various types of dance shoes. A high-pitched laugh sounded from behind Maka, and the owner of the voice approached the locker next to Maka's. Loudly, she punched her code in, and grabbed a pair of shoes that were inside her locker. Maka waited for the girl to leave before replying, not wanting to draw attention to herself. "Apology accepted, I guess."

He didn't move from his spot. "It's just, people don't really see me. They see me as my brother, and…I'm not Wes."

Maka looked over to him, meeting his eyes. "That must really suck, Soul."

"I'm sure you understand," he said. "Your parents are Kami and Spirit Albarn."

She shrugged. "Yeah, it kinda sucks sometimes. But you don't really get to choose your family, so I can't really bring myself to resent them for that."

Soul gave her a half-smile. He knew she was sincere when she said that, but he also knew that believing what you knew was right was difficult. Emotions were tricky, nasty things; even if you didn't want them to be. He thought of it like toffee. They were sweet and innocent from a distance, but when you finally got closer to them, you realised just how messy and sticky they could be, and just how long it took to alter them to something that you could manage.

"But you do. I can tell you do." he said softly.

"How?"

"You don't really have any friends," he said.

"Neither do you." she shot back.

"I do have friends."

"What, like your friend last night? He seems like an intelligent guy." She said sarcastically.

"Maka," he said, exasperated. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant…You're afraid of people comparing you to them. Afraid of not being able to meet their expectations."

"Is that why you skip class?" she said suddenly, her cheeks going slightly red. She softened for a bit. She didn't understand how someone she'd just met could almost read her mind; could see straight through her like glass. It made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She didn't usually like having people this close to her.

"What?"

She turned to look him in the eye. "When we met, you were skipping class."

He shrugged. "I don't like class."

"Why not?"

"It's boring, I guess."

"I guess I just…don't feel like I should be here," he admitted. "At Shibusen. Everyone just wants me to be a clone of Wes," he said. "That's why I even got into this school. Not because I was any good. People don't like my stuff, Maka."

He didn't meet her gaze while he said this, instead choosing to stare at his shoes. He was embarrassed by this confession, and he didn't want Maka to think he was some sappy, uncool guy.

"I guess we're kind of alike, then." She said eventually.

"Yeah," he agreed, leaning back against the locker. "I guess we are."

Maka and Soul fell into a sort of routine. He'd wait for her by her locker, they'd walk to classes together, they'd spend lunch together, walk to the convenience store on the way home. It was nice, having this unspoken agreement between them. Most of the time, neither of them talked about their respective talents. It was strange for both of them to have become friends with someone who knew nothing about what they'd dedicated their lives to. Maka knew Soul would be confused if she talked about dancing, and she didn't particularly want to. She liked that she had something in her life that wasn't about dancing, and he liked that she knew very little about music. It was like a breath of fresh air, a break from their constant anxieties. They didn't have to worry about being judged and rated on just these talents, but on who they were.

They were two outcasts in a place where they were both supposed to belong – and neither of them minded where they'd finally found solace.