Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater, its characters, story, etc. etc. You guys get the gist of it.

A/N: I know it's been forever. Too long to keep you guys waiting, and I'm honestly sorry about that. I've been battling severe depression and all sorts of nasty mental/emotional issues and I haven't been able to write in months. Trust me, it hurt me just as much as it hurt you. :P But, I've finally come up out of my inner turmoil, if only for a little while, to bring you guys a story. 3

Based on a prompt that my mother gave me when I told her I was writer's blocked. Hope you guys like it!

Meeting You

Small, slender, seven-year-old fingers slid over the ivory and ebony keys of the piano. Sweetly dark music ebbed and flowed through the dimly lit room, much like the gentle glissade of a lone river. The little boy's song undulated between the walls of the basement where he liked to spend his time, the dulcet tones of the piano strings discordant, dark, and oddly beautiful. The song was pleasing to the ear although it seemed to sing a story of a sad and lonely childhood.

Another boy came down the stairs, a handsome one in his mid teens. His white hair hung down nearly to his shoulders. His white button-up top was partially undone, his black jeans held up by a simple black belt. A woman's harsh yell came down the stairwell.

"Come on, Wes, surely you can properly dress yourself! You are fifteen and still don't know how to look like someone cares about you! Honestly! At least do something about that hair of yours! You and your brother, my God! Curse your useless father, wherever the hell he is now..."

The teenage Wes ignored his mother and looked over at the other boy, who hadn't stopped playing. Wes smiled softly at his little brother. Only seven and already a musical genius, a prodigy especially on the piano. "Little Beethoven," Wes would affectionately call him.

"Hey, Soul," he finally called. Without even coming to a rest in his playing, the little boy looked up. Soul was nearly identical to his older brother, save for his hair being wilder and his red eyes being larger. The young albino had almost no expression on his face; he conveyed all of his thoughts and emotions through his music. Wes gave his brother an encouraging smile.

"C'mon," he said, "time for your first day of school. You excited?"

Soul shook his head solemnly, staring back down at the worn keys of the piano. Wes clicked his tongue and stepped down off the staircase, putting a hand on the seven-year-old's shoulder and kneeling down next to him. Soul finally took his attention from the instrument and looked at his older brother.

"Hey," Wes said softly, "don't worry. I know it's scary, but you'll be okay."

Soul didn't say anything. Wes hadn't expected him to; Soul hadn't spoken since their dad left, three years ago. He had been only just old enough to speak, not quite yet old enough to understand exactly what was going on, but old enough to know that Wes holding him, hiding him so he couldn't see the fight, meant that the yelling he heard was something bad. Though he still couldn't really comprehend the events of three years ago, he had been mute and lonely ever since.

Presently, their mother, no longer the sweet and doting woman she once was, had decided it was time for Soul to start public school. Soul was not pleased about this, having an apparent hatred toward everybody but his brother (and sometimes Wes wasn't even sure about that,) but Wes was trying to be as supportive and reassuring as he could to his mute brother. After all, Wes knew that he was all Soul had left.

With that thought, Wes squeezed Soul's shoulder and smiled.

"C'mon. Let's go. I'll walk you there. Maybe you'll meet some nice kids at the Academy."

Soul shook his head, unbelieving of his brother, but nonetheless closed his piano and stood to follow him anyway.

Soul glanced around the classroom as his mother ushered him inside. Soul was nervous, but didn't show it. The teacher, a young, dark-skinned man with deadlocks, gave him a smile and gestured to the rows of stands that served as desks.

"Soul, right?" he asked. "Why don't you go sit next to Maka up there in Tier Six? Maka, raise your hand."

A little blonde girl with pigtails threw her hand up eagerly. Soul looked at his mother one last time, as if to emotionlessly beg her, "don't make me do this." She only gently nudged her son, giving him what he supposed was an encouraging smile. Stomach churning, he shuffled to the stairs, clutching his notebooks to his chest. He could hear what the kids were whispering to each other as he walked by.

"He hasn't said a word..."

"Why's his eyes red?"

"He's weird..."

"What a freak..."

Soul plopped down next to the pigtail girl, who was staring raptly at the teacher, bent excitedly over her notebook. He sighed, doing his best to ignore the strange looks he got from the other kids.

The teacher—his name was Sid, Soul found—asked Soul a question at one point (despite little Maka trying to pull her arm out of its socket to get Sid's attention,) but the mute little boy only looked down and shrugged. Sid frowned and called on Maka for the umpteenth time. Naturally, she gave the right answer. Perfect answer, flawless execution, as usual. He sighed, continuing to write down musical notes on his lined paper.

He jumped when Maka spoke; he hadn't noticed her leaning over to look at his paper.

"What's that?" she asked, wide green eyes shining with curiosity. She didn't even give him time to think about a response before she babbled on. "Is that a different language? What language is that?" She gasped. "Do you not talk because you speak that weird language?!"

Soul pouted and shook his head. How could this brilliant child, this unbelievably intelligent little show-off who seemed to know everything in the world, not recognize music?

"Wait, no, your mom spoke English. That woman was your mom, right? Where's your dad?"

Soul felt a tugging in his heart. He hung his head, slowly shaking it. Maka's face fell. She put a hand on his back.

"It's okay, I don't have a daddy, either." She looked around as if to check for eavesdroppers, then leaned in and whispered, "My parents are getting a divorce."

Soul looked up at her in shock. He had heard his mom and Wes using that word before, and he was pretty sure it was what happened to his dad. He gave her an apologetic look, the best an apologetic mute boy can do. She, however, seemed unaffected by the thought, simply continuing to sling question after question at him, none of which he answered out loud (or really answered at all; she did talk an awful lot.)

He couldn't help but wonder how long he'd have to go to school; he wasn't sure he could put up with this one girl, much less a few thousand of them.

By lunch break, Soul was seriously considering running out the doors, finding his brother and begging to be taken home. Kids were laughing at him, making fun of him. One group of particularly burly boys surrounded him in the hallway, smirking at him. They pushed him down and laughed, calling him various names.

Soul really didn't want to fight these boys. He wasn't even sure if he could; he was fairly small even for his age, and there were at least four of these boys standing over him. Dear God, what were Wes and his mother thinking, telling him he'd like it here? Everybody thought he was a freak...

"Hey! Leave him alone!" yelled a girl from behind him. Soul turned to look at her. It was the blonde, pigtailed girl who had barraged him with questions earlier. His eyes widened as he realized, her stepping between him and the boys, that maybe not everyone thought he was a freak.

"Just because he's different from you doesn't make him a freak or a monster or anything!" Maka yelled at the boys that were bullying Soul. "He's just as human as you and me! He didn't do anything to you! So just leave him alone!"

Soul stood up. One of the boys glared at Maka.

"Who do you know? Show off!"

"Nerd!"

"Teacher's pet!"

"Oomph!" Maka was knocked down. Tears of frustration pooled in her green eyes.

And then, for the first time since his father left, Soul really felt something; he felt angry. Seeing Maka, a girl, sitting on the ground, wiping tears from her eyes and smoothing out her dress, the one person in this whole school who had attempted to make him feel human...it just made him want to scream.

And for the first time since his father left, he did.

Before he realized it, he had the boy who had pushed Maka down his his collar and was yelling in his face, teeth bared.

"Don't you touch her!" he bellowed. "You guys are nothing but a bunch of jerks who probably don't even have any friends! At least I have one friend, and that's her!" he pointed at a flustered Maka. "And even if she's the only friend I ever have, I'm gonna protect her! So don't you go near her, understand?!"

The boy jerked out of Soul's grasp, frightened. Slowly, the others began to back away as well. When they had all one by one left, Soul turned and helped Maka up. Dusting herself off, she blushed and murmured, "th-thank you. That was really nice of you to defend me like that..."

"Mhm," he nodded. Maka looked at him, tightening a pigtail.

"Soooooooo...we're friends?" she looked hopeful. Soul smiled after a moment and nodded.

She stared at him for a second, then unashamedly hugged him. Not prepared for this, Soul stumbled backwards a bit, his face turning red.

"Yay!" she squealed. "I have a friend! And you're gonna protect me forever and ever and ever, right?" she babbled happily, pulling back to grin at him. He gave her a wide, shark-toothed smile.

"Sure!"

A/N: Okay, so it wasn't much and it's not my usual angsty romance, but I was in a fluffy, friendship-writing mood, so, I hope you guys liked it!