Yay, Soul Eater~
This takes place in the short moments as Soul walks up to the piano to play in the anime-verse at the end of episode 35 and the beginning of episode 36.
This is going under the assumption I heard somewhere that Soul was a part of a rich family, and his parents neglected him in favor of his older brother. I have not read the manga. I repeat, I HAVE NOT READ THE MANGA. Therefore, Soul's past is merely one I read somewhere and decided to exploit, and the anime felt no need to explain that random flashback with the dark room and the piano. I did not steal this idea, just used the background as one of the things Soul thinks about. Feel free to message me about what his past is like, because I'm kind of interested, but don't have any motivation. :D
I tried to keep it somewhat in line with what is happening, though dialogue is about nil. :P And I do not, in any way, own Soul Eater. Duh. The law annoys me.
They needed him again, the idiots. "Come, Soul," the little red devil whispered. Its' voice was maddening, a throaty, calculating voice that set his teeth on edge. But he was, after all, too 'cool' to show fear—or any emotion at all except that of an aloof figure—and he did not wish to give the devil anything to exploit. Maka needed him, and he would serve. She was his meister, and he would follow her for eternity.
For a moment, he let himself think of her, even as he fixed up the minor wrinkles in his pinstripe tuxedo. A boy, jaded, untrusting, turning around from his isolated perch where he was no good no good at all because he would never ever ever be better than him but she said it she said it and she needed him and perhaps this girl, this warrior who could wield him would make him useful make him comfortable make him feel like he belonged.
He smiled his vicious, razor-sharp smile. "I look, pretty good, eh?" And the devil smiled and beckoned in his slow drawl. He took a step forward, to a sleek black piano, one of the finest he'd every seen, and felt himself divided. He felt a sort of yearning, he barely suppressing the automatic finger exercises drilled into him in his youth, because he could not display anything other than his 'cool' exterior he hid himself behind. But there was a deep fear, a fear that had taken root inside him ever since Maka had lost herself for that short amount of time, where he was a helpless bystander to the madness that had overtaken his friend, his savior. But his countenance portrayed none of this as he walked forward and placed a hand over the piano's cover, the battle in which the only one he could fully trust was taking a part of.
The little devil whispered taunts, urging him to play. Mocking him. The first stirrings of insanity welled in him as he stood, eyes closed. Idly, he wondered how Maka had felt when the black blood rushed through her veins. Did she think of him, as he did her? He sat down on the piano bench, and opened the lid. He touched a key experimentally-perfectly tuned, as he suspected it would be. The note was low, and echoed eerily as the devil urged him on some more, "Looking at the world through the glasses of cynicism... It ain't happy, it ain't fun, it's sad; your soul weeps!" A part of him protested-Maka had taught him to look past his wall, to enjoy the simple pleasures of life, but the insanity was growing stronger, the lucidity of his thoughts lessening.
Since he was little, he had always detested the feeling of 'uselessness.' He had felt it too many times, and it only got worse as he grew older. It was Maka who saved him from those self-deprecating thoughts, though he highly doubted she realized it. She was Maka Albarn after all, loud, rude, forceful, emotional, kind, temperamental, stubborn, loyal Maka who he would do anything for, even push away the fear and the wanting and the little red devil and just play, play for her, play for the bonds that she unknowingly created one night in a dark room next to a piano with the candles burning and she saying those words, those words he had been waiting to hear for such a long time that his heart melted, just a little bit, right then and there.
Soul slammed his fingers down on the piano keys.