Carpe Diem

Seize the day. In my words, “Victory before insanity.” That’s what Zexion thought when Demyx had the brilliant idea to set Axel up with Roxas Caine.

- - -

Act I: Scheme Within a Plot

Announcement: Ladies and gentlemen, it is that time of year once again within the halls of Trinity High School! We, the student council, are proud to host this year’s annual December Talent Show at the Castle Theatre within the very heart of our beloved Hollow Bastion. This December, the Talent Show will be held on the night of the 16th at the scheduled time of eight o’clock pm to ten o’clock.

Auditions: October 29th, Radiant Garden Studios (132 78 - 90 Street), 4:00 pm - 6:00 pm

Final List: Posted at the lobby bulletin board on November 10th

Application forms will be available a week from this announcement, and must be presented at the auditions with teacher signatures completed.

Be ready to show us your very best, dear students of THS! Judges during the Talent Show will include myself, Zack Fair, student council president, and two other surprise guests. Practice and rehearse with all you’ve got because the top twenty acts will be the only ones set to perform on the night of December 16th. The best among the best will be determined and the winner shall receive five thousand munny and a scholarship to the University of Ivalice!

- - -

(October 1, 2008: Monday)

The December Talent Show in Trinity High School, without a trace of doubt, was probably the most important event within the academic year, close in running to the student council elections and the Peace Campaign held every January. The amount of pressure surrounding the whole endeavour and the tension for success that came with it could only be more emphasized by the fact that the competition was strong. THS housed a considerable number of talented, brilliant students, and not only were they gifted and smart, but aggressive on the playing field. They would probably bludgeon each other to death with their musical instruments, ballet shoes, and choreography tapes not just for the scholarship to UOI or the prize money, but for the title of THS talent champion of whatever such year. The title not only earned you respect and a place within the high school community, but it also brought you to the immediate attention of talent scouts and agents all over the nation. So one can only imagine the blood, sweat, and tears shed in order to gain a slot in the top twenty set to perform on the night of December 16th.

“AXEL, PLEASE. JUST THIS ONCE AND I SHALL NEVER ASK AGAIN.”

Which would explain Demyx Diluvia’s current state of utter desperation.

Axel Kashou raised his thin brows at the blond kneeling at his feet, who was looking quite pitiable at the moment. With a small and exasperated exhale from his long, thin nose, the redhead looked with disdain upon his so called friend. His green eyes held no amusement, only a mild touch of annoyance that, if tested any further, would probably blow out of proportion. “I’ve told you time and again, Demyx: You’re not paying me; you owe me nothing; and you can’t blackmail me. Check in the dictionary if you haven’t a clue what ‘no’ means.”

The blue-eyed blond was silent for a moment, his brain probably not comprehending such blatant rejection. Then a loud, long wail erupted from his lips in drawn out notes of despair. “But why?”

Axel’s lip twitched, and he turned to look at Zexion, patience on the brink of suicide. “Zexion, can I borrow your lexicon?”

The slate-haired boy raised a brow - the visible one at least, because his hair covered half his face. “Whatever for?”

“To throw at your annoying lapdog. He obviously doesn’t know that no means NO.”

There was an anguished sob from Demyx as he shuffled closer to Axel’s legs on his knees. “Axel, please,” he cried, voice utilizing all feelings of sorrow. “You’re the best guitar player I know in the whole city! I can’t win the Talent Show if you don’t play guitar for me! I need you.”

Axel made the mistake of glancing at Demyx. His full intention was to glare at him with so much spite to rival the sourness of a lemon but the blond honestly looked like he was going to start crying. And Axel, no matter how much he loathed Demyx’s undignified grovelling, didn’t like making a friend cry. Of course, he made Demyx cry a lot of times during their younger years as friends, but childhood held very little influence on his higher appeal to wisdom, so that didn’t count.

Snorting with utter disdain, Axel nudged Demyx with his foot as if to tell him that he was excused from his bootlicking duties. “Find someone else, Demyx. There is no way in hell that you can convince me to join your little quest for stardom.” Axel gave the statement a good touch of condescension as he patted Demyx on the head, walking away with Riku for their next class.

Demyx’s left eye twitched, not noticing Zexion’s inquiry of “Um … Demyx, do you need to lie down?”

Ever since the announcement fliers had been handed out in the last week of September, he had been more than thrilled to audition for the December Talent Show. Demyx’s one true love throughout life had always been music, theatre, the performing arts. Since elementary, he had joined every single play, skit, dance, and talent show ever held within his school, and the same routine carried on throughout junior high. He had been recognized, received awards, a couple of trophies and medals, but the Talent Show that THS hosted was like no other.

Demyx could recall watching it a few years back when he was in the fourth grade, and all the performances didn’t cease to amaze him. From that day onward, he vowed to win the title of champion if he ever attended Trinity.

Now was his chance, and the one presentation that he knew was a guaranteed victory wasn’t going to work. Why? Because Axel, his friend of eight years, was being a monumental douche bag.

Zexion looked worriedly at his best friend, who knelt with no expression whatsoever to the side of the third floor hallway. People were starting to stare, and he was beginning to feel embarrassed out of association. He waved a hand in front of Demyx’s face. “Demyx, you’re starting to worry me. This is no big deal. I can find you someone else other than-”

“NO BIG DEAL?”

Zexion stepped back in alarm as Demyx started to scream, having bolted upright from his kneeling position.

“I’ve been dreaming of the Talent Show ever since I was ten, for freaking god’s sake! Every single voice lesson, guitar lesson, music class, and every moment that I breathe is dedicated to this show! So don’t tell me that it’s no big deal!!”

Zexion grimaced, knowing better than to respond when Demyx was in a state of hysterics. He would give his rants one, three minutes tops. Zexion had time to spare. The Literature teacher loved him, so what was a few minutes of tardiness from a star pupil?

“This is my dream - something I’ve been wanting for seven whole years, goddamnit!” The blond waved his hands around wildly as he shouted, making several passers-by scuttle past with extreme cautiousness. “Then Axel just has to be such a dickhole and ruin my one fucking chance to reach my lifelong vision!!”

Wincing at the terrible use of language, Zexion counted the seconds that passed by. As Demyx continued to rave, with more and more expletives inserted in between words, he counted the seconds ticking by. One more minute …

“- I’ll live the rest of my life renting out my parents’ basement if I don’t get this chance! Oh god, I’ll end up like Mrs. Wicker down the street who talks to her cat-”

Twenty seconds …

“- I don’t want to remain a virgin until I’m fifty! I’ll be too old to have sex by then! My genes won’t be passed on and I’ll be a genetic failure -”

A vein pulsed on Zexion’s temple as someone passed by, muttering “Oh, he wouldn’t be a virgin if it were up to me.”

The slate-haired boy counted down to zero, and he levelled a stare at Demyx, who had apparently run out of steam. The blond now looked weary, shoulders sagging, and his eyes gazed at Zexion with exhaustion. “Ah … sorry, Zex. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”

How predictable.

“I mean,” Demyx continued, picking up his books from where he had left them on the floor earlier, “Axel didn’t have to be so mean about it. We’ve been friends for such a long time … I thought he’d at least support me or something.” His eyes closed for a few moments, then opened and the dejection he felt was unhidden. “If it was Axel who asked me for something, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

There was a pause, and afterwards Zexion sighed. He strode towards the stairwell at the very end of the hallway. As Demyx fell in step beside him, Zexion frowned to himself. “Demyx, you have to understand. Axel isn’t the type to be very generous. He’s no philanthropist. And let’s face it; you two don’t exactly have a very loving history.”

Looking back on all those years when Axel broke his crayons, threw clay at him, stuck gum in his hair, and hid his lunchbox, Demyx winced. Of course, he was to blame for ruining Axel’s science project during the fifth grade, his dog had chewed Axel’s iPod Touch to bits, and Demyx had pulled that prank on him where Axel’s hair emerged victim from a very severe water-dousing on a hot, humid summer day. So Demyx would pretty much say that the two of them were even, but he had a feeling that the notion was one-sided.

“Well, yeah. We’ve had some rough patches, but that’s no reason to flat out refuse me when I obviously need his help,” Demyx said, lower lip jutting outward in a childish pout that didn’t quite suit his angled features.

Zexion kept his pace consistent, listening well. A thought nagged at the back of his mind, but he pushed it away.

“Besides … if Axel agrees, I’ll be doing him a favour.”

Although Demyx still sounded sad and quite dejected, the hint of anticipation in his voice was obvious. Zexion nearly flinched, but he chose to keep a straight face, even with some difficulty.

“Demyx, I think it’s best not to push it. Knowing Axel, he’ll hunt you down …”

The blond turned to look at him, determination shining on his smiling face. “But Zexion! If everything works out in the end, maybe he won’t be such a grouch to me all the time! And Axel does deserve to be happy, you know, even if he can be a pain sometimes.”

Zexion didn’t like the sound of Demyx’s resolve, but he knew that there was no talking some sense into him. From the very moment that those stupid scented fliers had been passed out - they smelled like lilies, for god’s sake - Zexion knew that Demyx had something big up his sleeve. And suckering Axel into his little act was only step one in Demyx’s “epical” plan for a conquest long since abandoned.

Adjusting his hold on his books, Zexion blew his hair a couple of inches away from his face, until it settled back down against his cheek, the fine strands tickling him slightly. Demyx kept on talking, and Zexion tried to seem nonplussed.

“Axel always puts up that tough, macho act as if he doesn’t have a feeling bone in his body. But I know otherwise,” Demyx stated matter-of-factly with a wave of his hand. Grinning, he continued. “He’s just emotionally insecure, and I have a way to solve that for him! That’s why he has to agree to help me out with the show. If Axel says yes, I’m in for a sure win, and he’s going to have all his worries worked out. Then we all have our happily ever after!”

Zexion had to think about Demyx’s words. Axel, emotionally insecure? The guy was nothing but cocky and arrogant, so what the hell was Demyx talking about?

Deciding not toput that into question, he shrugged, smiling just a little. “And the Talent Show will get rid of all his insecurities and stage fright. You’re a genius, Demyx. Brilliant.”

The blond laughed, as though this were a form of a joke that he couldn’t get enough of. “Right, Zex. We’re getting rid of his stage fright.”

The shorter boy nearly flinched at Demyx’s verbal use of “we.” As far as he was concerned, he didn’t want any part of incurring Axel’s wrath. The guy was pissed off enough as it was, what with Demyx tailing him around all the time with one begging session after another. It could only take so much for Axel to blow his top off. Zexion had no fear of being called a coward, but if Axel got wind of Demyx’s “secret plans,” he’d be gunning for both their sorry asses, and if it did reach that point, Zexion was hightailing it out of town. Demyx would have to be left behind. Bludgeoning him to death would probably stall Axel’s anger long enough for Zexion to reach the Swiss alps.

As far as Zexion was aware of, he merely gave a nod to Demyx’s statement as they both made their way down the staircase. Demyx headed straight for his Biology class and they parted ways when Zexion entered room 201 for Literature. The teacher didn’t even blink when his star pupil arrived three minutes late to class, and Zexion was thankful for that. He needed to think.

Demyx, in his very misguided attempts to do Axel a favour, was going to get himself killed. For him to slowly back off and leave the matter alone was a very delicate procedure - like brain surgery. Zexion had to choose his words wisely. The wrong phrasing could lead to very catastrophic results. The poor idiot had fully deluded himself into thinking that Axel’s self-esteem was in need of some salvaging, and so had resulted to heroics. If the redhead ever caught wind of his best friend’s silly little enterprise, Zexion didn’t want to pick pieces of Demyx up from the floor. As far as he was concerned, his friend was stupid but didn’t deserve to be dismembered because of good intent.

Demyx’s goal was to get Axel to play electric guitar for him in the Talent Show. Zexion could only hope that Axel didn’t give in, no matter what Demyx attempted.

- - -

Life was simple enough when Demyx thought about it. All you needed to get through a day was optimism, goodwill, and a bright attitude. Which would explain how he survived seventeen years of breathing without ever worrying about regrets and mistakes. ‘I’m human after all,’ he would say to himself if any blunder would ever occur by his hand, intentionally or not. Most often, he never meant to slip-up, and tried frequently to prevent himself from accidentally committing mishaps. At the end of the day, though, he never blamed himself for much. Only said sorry at appropriate times and vowed never again to repeat the same mistakes. Living was easier and lighter that way.

He had lived seventeen years achieving that kind of ideal - “a part of his philosophy” a more likely depiction. Never regret your wrongs for far too long, and if needed, only do so at an appropriate length. Demyx didn’t like being guilty or sad for a long time, and so his solution was to look at an error as though it were a lesson to be learned. That way it reduced the shame and misery to be felt. And he rather liked his way of thinking, and so stuck to it for as long as he could remember.

So why, when he had developed his viewpoint to perfection, did he now doubt every single action, word, and thought centered around Axel Kashou? They had been friends for eight years, ever since Axel had stood up for Demyx during the third grade when some big, hulking jerk named Ian had kicked him in the shin for no apparent reason. The three of them had been sent to the principal’s office in their elementary school building after a particularly embarrassing attempt at overpowering the playground bully. The incident didn’t bode well for Axel or Demyx, and had turned out even worse for Ian, who had been caught by their teacher hanging Demyx onto the monkey bars by his pants’ belt. Although by that time, Axel had been feeling quite traumatized from being on the swing set a mile or two higher than what was normal.

Axel’s and Demyx’s hatred of Ian the Giant was enough common ground for a long-lasting friendship. They had shared eight years of friendship, so why was it that Axel was so adamant about refusing Demyx his eagerly sought after help? It was a simple case of playing that expensive electric guitar of his on a stage for a few minutes. Demyx could honestly not find what was so damned difficult about the entire ordeal.

So now he was going through the first day of October feeling a little angry, frustrated, and a bit more confused and remorseful than what he himself considered to be healthy. The mere fact that Axel was being a colossal jerkwad was enough for Demyx to reverse the thought process that he had adapted himself to for his entire life.

He’s no philanthropist, Zexion had said. Now that he thought about it, Demyx could recall Axel doing him more harm than good all these years, or had otherwise seemed to be oblivious of his presence when not doing him said harm. Granted, Demyx had his share of unwarranted practical jokes, but he had at the very least apologized. They were still friends, bullying and pranking aside. So what was a little favour now and again between buddies?

Demyx pondered this question throughout Biology, with no intent of paying attention to the teacher any time soon. The rest of the morning went by exactly as it did in the Bio. room, his mental question and figurative Rubik’s cube twisting and turning inside his head, like how a dice would never stop being rolled about at a casino in Port Royal. Unless he found an answer, but that seemed unlikely. Axel was edgy enough without being tailed around with the same question coming from Demyx again and again, so the blond decided that it would be a good idea to leave well enough alone. That is, until he could come up with a course of action. After all, if everything went according to plan, this would turn out with more profit, and not just for Demyx. He, after all, never just thought about himself.

Demyx slammed his books down onto a bleached rosewood table in the library, causing Zexion to jerk his head up in alarm. Several students turned their heads to glance at him with the same confused, stunned expression, but Demyx ignored them and sat down across Zexion, his face set in what seemed like an exaggerated tone of soberness.

“Bribery,” he muttered, hands clasped solemnly in front of him on the table.

Zexion stared at him for a good two seconds, wrapping his head around the whole situation, then spoke. “You’re going to bribe Axel into playing guitar for you in the Talent Show.” The whole statement was spoken with nonchalance, but Zexion’s eyes betrayed a hint of anxiousness.

Demyx nodded, as if they were discussing a close relative’s funeral. “Yup. Begging obviously won’t work, so I have to bribe him.” He was silent for a moment, rolling the whole idea around in his head like dough about to be shoved into the oven only to be pulled out half-baked. Blue eyes looked up at Zexion for a moment, honestly curious. “Think he’d do it for free sex?”

“Demyx!” Zexion hissed, slamming his book shut.

The blond shrugged, looking tired and defeated. “Worth a try. I don’t know what I have that Axel could possibly want bad enough.”

Zexion was now looking quite disgruntled, but nonetheless dignified his best friend’s words with a reply. “I have no idea either, but I do suggest dropping the issue. The entire thing is just not worth the effort.”

Snapping his gaze onto the slate-haired boy, Demyx gave Zexion the full essence of his irritation by glaring. “I thought I told you already; I need Axel to win the Talent Show. No other guitar player is good enough. Besides, I’m doing him a favour. He may not know it, but I’m willing to do something nice for him.” He said this with a bit of indignation, huffing a little as he leaned back in his seat.

Demyx thought he heard Zexion mutter something about delusional, but he could have heard wrong. Choosing to ignore the whole objection towards his actions, Demyx decided to continue from where he initially started. “So I have a few ideas in mind about how I’ll convince him that helping me would be a good thing.”

Cocking a brow sceptically, Zexion placed an elbow on the tabletop and rested his chin against the heel of his palm. “Option number one being?”

Demyx grinned. “Money.”

- - -

(Still October 1, Lunch)

Shiny, silver plastic waved at his face, enough to give Demyx a seizure. “See this, Dem? It’s my credit card. And how much does it hold?” Axel spoke the magical digits amounting to what the tiny piece of plastic held. Demyx’s jaw dropped. “And how much are you willing to pay me?”

Demyx nearly dropped his fork onto the floor, his abandoned risotto instantly growing stale in his peripheral vision. How many zeros was that again?

Immediately, he closed his gaping mouth and shut up as Axel smugly slid his card back into this wallet. The noise within the school lunch room was a statement that the world had not a care that Demyx was going to fast run out of options at the rate his luck was dwindling.

Zexion calmly placed his Pepsi can on the plastic surface of their table, looking at Demyx’s shocked form as everyone else got back to their own previous conversations before Demyx’s interruption of “Axel, I will pay whatever it takes for you to be in my band for the Talent Show. Name your price.”

He muttered in a low tone so as not to attract the attention of the other juniors surrounding them. “So, what’s option number two?”

Demyx grunted rather maliciously and a fork went sailing. The punctured Pepsi can flying onto the floor with a loud clatter was soon followed by his answer. “Music.”

- - -

(October 2, 2008: Tuesday)

The reverberating toll of the household’s doorbell rang long and loud, a merry sort of tune. Being the one closest to the front door, Axel stood on his feet from where he had been previously seated on the Russian chaise lounge in the living room, sauntering unhurriedly towards the tall mahogany threshold. He turned the brass handle, and was stunned to see Demyx huffing and panting on his lit porch, hand on the wooden railing adjacent the front door for support. In his other hand he held up two gold framed tickets that sparkled in the warm glow of Axel’s porch light.

“Tickets … to Yuna’s concert … Saturday,” Demyx wheezed in between gulps of air. Once he had a leash on his breathing he straightened to look Axel square in the eye. “I had to run all the way to the Castle Theatre and back. These cost six-hundred munny each. They’re front row.” Axel saw Demyx’s left eye twitch manically. “I had to beat through the crowd with a two-by-four. For god’s sake, Sora materialized out of thin air and hit me with a hockey stick.”

The two stared at each other for a moment or two. Demyx was apparently growing desperate, but still managed to get a grip on some semblance of his sanity. Axel scratched the back of his head, looking quite apologetic, and for a second the blond thought he saw victory.

“Ah, hate to break it to you, Demyx, but Riku already got tickets. With backstage passes. Really, I’m sorry, but it’s still a no.”

Later that evening, Demyx trotted into his bedroom, collapsing onto his bed face forward. Mindlessly, he grabbed his cell phone from his back pocket and hit speed dial number one.

“Hey, Zexion. You busy on Saturday?” Demyx asked calmly.

There was a pause on the line. Then: “He has tickets already, doesn’t he?”

The blond promptly burst into tears.

- - -

(October 3, 2008: Wednesday)

On Wednesday, Demyx marched through the school doors with even more resolve. He was determined not to lose the best guitar player within the city to a mere mind game that Axel was apparently trying to play. Oh, he had everything figured out. Axel, cheeky bastard that he was, wouldn’t hold up the charade for much longer.

Walking through the halls with his jaw set firm, Demyx arrived within feet of Axel’s locker. He could already see the red spikes standing out, even more so today because Axel had his hair in an abhorrent pony tail that had no impression of order whatsoever. Demyx realized that the redhead had gym first thing today, then shook his head when he noticed that that was irrelevant. He strode confidently up to Axel, and coughed loudly.

The redhead stiffened for a moment, then turned around to face Demyx with a slightly amused, slightly annoyed expression. “What will it be today, Dem? A million munny? A sports car? A trip to the Caribbean?” the redhead asked mockingly, although most of it was expressed with exhaustion.

Demyx was all calm and positive as he relayed his information. “I know what you’re trying to do, Axel. You’re testing me. I can see it now.” He nodded to himself, then continued. “You want to see just how far I’ll go for you to play at the Talent Show.”

Axel raised a brow, interested. “Oh, really? Smart guess, because you’re partially right. So what’s your highest offer?”

Demyx seemed extremely cool and composed up until that moment. Then he just seemed to breakdown, his words turning into splutters of embarrassment, his cheeks blossoming a jolly old St. Nick kind of red. “I’ll do anything you want me to do for two months.” he stammered, hand playing with his bag strap like a fidgeting child. “Anything.”

Axel stared at him for a moment, face blank. His brain came up with no reaction to the insinuation behind the statement, because, for the love of everything sacred, this was Demyx talking to him here. What kind of person in their right mind would think that he would be tempted by this pathetic form of seduction? Was this supposed to be a bribe? Oh, this was so hilarious and ironic on more levels than he could count.

Shaking his head, caught between laughter and humiliation on Demyx’s behalf, Axel patted the blond on the shoulder. “I don’t know what even made you think I’d be persuaded by that. Although I’ve gotta hand it to you, Demyx. That’s pretty much as high as any offer goes.”

With that, Axel snapped his locker shut and walked away, seeming slightly confused and impressed at the same time.

As Demyx sat emotionlessly in his usual seat in the library during study period, Zexion looked up, torn between pity and exasperation.

“Demyx, despite being your best friend, I have say; I told you it wouldn’t work.”

A copy of Ancient Civilizations was chucked smack dab at Zexion’s head.

- - -

(October 4, 2008: Thursday)

One would think that after several bouts of unwarranted and rather painful rejections, Demyx would call it a day and leave the Axel issue alone for good. A person could only take so much humiliation and pity from fellow students after all, and so by this point everyone pretty much expected Demyx to have given up already. But perseverance, no matter how strong, can be quite brainless and can contain as much will to live as a cockroach - no matter how many times you squash the darned things, somehow, someway, they come back from beyond the grave.

Axel was amongst the crowd of people who had thought Demyx to admit defeat so early in the game. He had to say that he was impressed at first, but c’mon. ‘Isn’t a bit too early for that?’ he had asked himself. Throughout the whole day Demyx had yet to show with his latest and undoubtedly outrageous offer. Now that school was over, Axel was convinced that the blond had finally decided that he was way too hard to get and had the white flag raised. ‘Pity,’ he thought - Demyx had been quite entertaining.

The fact that Axel had dropped his guard only served to stress the reality of what he saw out in the field that afternoon. Together with his fellow track team members, the redhead had headed out for the usual Thursday practice, only to be greeted by a strange and shocking surprise. There on the field was the school marching band.

Without any given warning, they all started to play what sounded like a fucking serenade for the whole neighbourhood to hear. Halfway through the performance, the track team members were honestly beginning to feel quite confused and perplexed, wondering why on earth the band was “practicing” on the field. At that point, Axel’s face had turned completely white, knowing that this was no “practice.” When the song ended, two little freshmen boys came running up from behind the band formation, a large, neon yellow banner in hand.

A round of barely concealed sniggers erupted from the track team when the boys revealed what was printed on the absurdly bright paper.

AXEL, PLAY GUITAR FOR ME. PLEASE.

In smaller print below the stupidly large font, Demyx had signed his own name in black magic marker.

The redhead, standing amidst his giggling teammates, scowled.

“NO.”

- - -

(October 5, 2008: Friday)

Reviewing the events of the past week, Axel had to worry. Demyx’s shenanigans had seemed harmless enough at first, but they were now escalating to a worrying level. It had started yesterday with the marching band serenade, which got people talking. It wasn’t much, but at the time, Axel was feeling much too mortified to care. When he got to school the next morning, however, it was then that he started to worry.

Upon opening his locker, wondering what kind of inanity Demyx would come up with that day, Axel felt extremely torn between insane cackling and tears of resignation when out poured red roses from the miniscule space. A card seemed to have perched itself neatly at the top of the crimson pile at his feet.

By the time that the roses had made themselves public, it was way too late to cover it up, seeing as people were starting to stare, and Axel didn’t want to look any more stupid than he already did.

Face red, he bent down to pick up the card, reading it with narrowed eyes.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

I can’t win the Talent Show,

If I don’t have you.

Axel had to scowl at the ridiculous shade of pink the card was, but noticed that people not far away were beginning to point and giggle. He realized that they were looking at the card, and he turned it over. Axel grimaced.

‘From Demyx’ was signed at the back in a revoltingly pink font colour, in a humiliatingly large font size.

- - -

(Still October 5, unfortunately)

The day didn’t seem to go by fast enough, Axel thought mournfully. The morning had passed by bloodier than usual. At every twist and turn, Demyx seemed to have placed artillery after firepower after ignition. As he headed to Chemistry, some small freshman dressed in a flamboyantly gay Hawaiian outfit played Axel some stupid Hawaiian song on a ukulele, afterwards announcing for the entire school to hear, “PLEASE PLAY GUITAR FOR ME, AXEL. LOVE, DEMYX.” On his way to History, Axel had taken full measure to avoid anyone whom Demyx might know and got to room 214 feeling as if the worst was over. Unfortunately, this time a group of freshman and junior girls came dancing into the room dressed like Greek nymphs, scattering lily petals everywhere. As they tossed a bouquet of white roses towards an unsuspecting, horrified redhead, they all formed a perfect line in front of the room, singing in perfect harmony, “Would you please play thine instrument for Demyx?”

Thinking that things couldn’t get any worse, Axel’s shock turned to anxiety and abject irritation upon the next period. His gym locker had apparently suffered a worse fate than the other, having been plastered with what seemed like more than a hundred neon pink and purple cards that looked like they were attacked by smiles, hearts, and rainbows and were now bleeding suffocating love. On every single one, the question, ‘Help me with the Talent Show, pretty please?’ was written in sparkly, glitter pen. Pink, sparkly, glitter pen.

Feeling rather browbeaten by such inane yet deep-seated attempts at wooing, Axel wandered to his next class fully expecting the worst. As anticipated, a band now stood right outside the Italian classroom, looking even more out of place in their sombreros, banjos, and Spanish guitars - for god’s sake, one of them had maracas.

After some Italian love song that Axel understood with brutal clarity, a girl with long brown curls handed him a card. Not really caring much at this point, Axel was already resigned to his fate of being the laughingstock of many more days to come. He really saw no harm in taking Demyx’s usual abhorrent pink card and opening it. The redhead promptly changed his mind when an electronic recording from the damned thing began playing over and over: Roses are red; violets are blue; I can’t win the Talent Show; if I don’t have you. And no. Axel did not care if everyone in the goddamned hallway heard it.

His bribing had obviously evolved into vehement pestering. Worst of all, it occurred to Demyx to not actually be within the vicinity when his lackeys initiated attack, so Axel had no one to yell at, but could only stand there, looking thoroughly victimized. By now, the whole school, staff, students, and freak science experiments alike were now fully aware of Demyx’s waging of one-sided war on the stubborn Axel. He was now pulling all the stops and heaven help anyone who tried to intervene.

Riku, Axel’s now ex-best friend, had taken to avoiding the redhead, taking different routes to their classes throughout the morning. The silver-haired male was either trying not to laugh at Axel in his face out of self-preservation, or he would rather not be associated with him due to all the embarrassing incidents. Either way, the lack of support was making Axel feel positively homicidal.

By the time lunch rolled around, Axel was now fully paranoid. He practically had to run to the cafeteria, get food, and promptly disappeared right after that. No one had spotted him since. Then again, Demyx and Zexion were missing from the cafeteria, too. A couple of students speculated that the two had Axel tied up somewhere, torturing him with unimaginable methods of a depraved nature. One boy said that they had the redhead locked up in room 208, the haunted classroom, and wouldn’t let him out unless he agreed to help out Demyx in the Talent Show. Now, those whisperings were very far from likely (were they?) and thus are all untrue, for after lunch Axel showed up, unharmed and safe yet still fearful, for Math.

After having gone through that class with no further disruptions of the humiliating kind, Axel was feeling slightly relieved but still irrationally edgy as he and Riku headed to study period. It was the only class that he had with Demyx, and Axel was going to make use of his time. His full intent was to beat the blond down with a full scale warning: He would threaten every limb attached to Demyx with bodily harm if the idiot didn’t step down.

But upon entering the large library of THS, there was still no sign of either Demyx or Zexion. “Maybe they eloped,” Riku joked with an amused chuckle, though Axel failed to see the humour in the joke. When looking for the blond for all of fifteen minutes failed to yield any profit, Axel decided to sit down next to Riku and actually try to focus on his education. This lasted for barely a few seconds when a loud song began to play via a boom box.

Yelling atop his lungs above the cheesy lyrics of ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ Axel shot out of his chair, waving his arms, screeching in an undignified manner, an unprecedented mental breakdown of epic proportions.

“FOR THE LOVE OF YOUR OWN MOTHER, DEMYX. I GIVE UP. I SURRENDER. JUST FUCKING STOP!”

Riku flinched away, shaken by the uncharacteristic and slightly crazed outburst from his usually level-headed friend. This was it. Demyx had persevered to the point of actually breaking Axel’s sanity.

There was a momentary scramble for order on one side of the room, and Axel shakily turned his attention towards a couple of freshman students fluttering around a large, outdated radio. The song promptly lowered in volume, then a tiny freshman boy turned nervously towards Axel who was beginning to tremble - possibly due to trauma.

“Sorry!” he called out. “Didn’t check the volume!”

When it was apparent that the small group of freshman students were working on some group project, and for some sadly hilarious and ironic reason were using an old love song in their studies, Axel’s eye began to twitch to an extent so severe that Riku was fully convinced that he was going to have a seizure.

“Ah, Axel, you might want to sit down …” he muttered, urging the redhead to take a seat, patting his shoulder in an awkward gesture of comfort.

Full body now twitching and trembling, Axel nodded shakily, lips a thin line on his face. He sat down in his chair, shuddering and still twitching when a voice from ahead interrupted the dormant silence.

“Did you get all that, Zexion?”

Riku looked up, wincing when he saw Demyx and Zexion standing not too far away from their table. Apparently, self-preservation was still being taken into account, for there was more than two meters of distance between them.

Zexion carefully held his sleek, lacquered flip phone in his left hand, pressing a few buttons here and there. Then he turned the device so that the screen was facing Riku’s slightly apprehensive expression, and Axel’s defeated yet unnerved form. A video of Axel’s mentally unsound outburst was playing on the small screen, his shriek of “FOR THE LOVE OF YOUR OWN MOTHER, DEMYX. I GIVE UP. I SURRENDER. JUST FUCKING STOP!” clearly distinct.

When the slate-haired genius clicked his phone shut, pocketing it, the four of them stared each other down. Clearly, sides had been taken in the small time it had taken for Demyx to wage this one-sided war. And the outcome of the confrontation was …

Axel slammed his head onto the table, muttering into the bleached rosewood: “White flag, Demyx. White flag. Now as a consolation of mercy, could you please fucking tell everyone that we’re not gay for each other?”

- - -

(rewinding events to a few days ago: September 29, 2008: Saturday)

As the audience, you may be wondering somewhere deep in mind: ‘Why did Demyx go through all those stupid measures just to snag Axel as a guitar player?’The answer to that, dear reader, would lead to the root, the very source of the entire plot altogether. However, the explanation as to why Demyx used such stupid methods could either be that he had taken enough of the rejection and snapped just as Axel had, or he was simply too pissed off to care whether his methods were sane or not. Either way, all the events were central to a trigger on an otherwise peaceful Saturday night within the basement of the Diluvia household. Everyone knows that a trigger requires some sort of activation. And the trigger preceding all the story’s events was pulled on this night by the most unlikely person in the most unlikely manner.

“I heard about the strangest thing today,” Zexion muttered after swallowing a small amount of Pepsi, following it with a helping of popcorn. “It’s quite interesting, not to mention unexpected.”

Demyx paused in his engrossed watching of a movie called ‘Show Me The Money’ to stare and blink at Zexion for five seconds before saying: “Wow. You think you know a person …”

Slate-grey eyes turned to look at Demyx sternly. “What, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?”

The blond shrugged, glancing at the large plasma screen as the main character dragged his drunk best friend towards another bar. “Gossip just doesn’t seem you, Zex. I thought you didn’t like knowing who goes out with who, or who slept with which person?”

Zexion rolled his eyes, reaching towards the glass coffee table for his can of Pepsi. “And you’re right about that. Gossip doesn’t become me, and I hate it when someone else’s personal life is being forced into my head. I hate hearsay.” He took a small sip, then continued. “I only took interest because it was genuinely shocking. Otherwise, I wouldn’t care much.”

Demyx whistled. “Do tell,” he said, grinning as he shifted towards his best friend on the couch, bottle of rootbeer in hand.

The younger boy pursed his lips as he thought for a moment of how to word his explanation. Then Zexion nodded when he settled, momentarily noticing a startling array of lights on the television screen. “I’m quite sure that this information is correct because my source is reliable. I can’t tell you who they are, though. Promise of confidentiality. Anyway … during freshman year, Roxas Caine supposedly had feelings for Axel. Kashou. Our Axel. You can only imagine my-”

Unfortunately, it was merely seconds before this revelation when Demyx decided to take a large gulp of his rootbeer, and upon hearing the shocking news, spewed it all over in a disgusting spray of mixed carbonated beverage and spit. The soda went flying across aerial space in a liquid arch, settling on the coffee table, mostly on the beige carpet, and some flecks managed to make their way onto the television screen. Demyx himself, however, didn’t seem to be aware of just how revolting this looked, and stared open-mouthed at Zexion, traces of rootbeer dripping slowly down his chin.

The slate-haired boy scowled violently, chucking a handful of paper towels at Demyx’s face. “For the love of your own mother, that is disgusting, Demyx. I suggest you clean that all up before your dad gets home-”

“No way …” Demyx muttered, ignoring the paper towels in his lap, wiping the sticky liquid from his face with the back of his hand. “You’re kidding, Zex.”

The younger boy frowned in abject disapproval, snatching a forgotten paper towel and proceeded to wipe rootbeer from Demyx’s face, then moved to clean the coffee table of the same mess. “When have I ever joked about these kinds of things, Dem? Besides, what struck me as shocking was that Roxas above all people would even know that Axel exists. He’s a smart boy, but apparently I was wrong. To pick Axel as an object of affection is just a great show of poor judge-”

“NO FLIPPING WAY.”

Zexion opened his mouth, about to object to Demyx’s rudeness, but wasn’t fast enough. The blond began to wildly gesture with his hands, blue eyes wild with excitement. “That is so great! What a coincidence. Axel liked Roxas around the same time, too!”

Zexion blanched. Oh, shi-

“You better not tell Axel,” he snapped. “If you do, so help me god, Demyx, I will hunt you down and drive a bread knife through your back. Best friend or not, this is extremely private information I just told you.”

Demyx waved him off with a dismissive “Psh!” as he set down his rootbeer bottle on the coffee table - now free of rootbeer drops, thanks to Zexion’s momentary bout of housewife-ishness. “No, no, no! Of course I won’t tell. It’s just so coincidental though!”

Zexion was about to agree with the heaviest sarcasm that he was capable of - and knowing that it was Zexion was a testament to the fact that his sarcasm could outweigh an elephant - when he was forced to pause due to a look within Demyx’s eyes. He froze. The last time he saw that twinkle within Demyx’s blue orbs catastrophic things had occurred, and from that moment on, he had vowed to gauge out the blond’s eyes if he even so much as imagined that twinkle there again. This time, however, Zexion was pretty sure that it wasn’t just his imagination, and that Demyx really had terrible things brewing within that mind of his.

“Whatever you’re thinking, Demyx,” Zexion hissed, pointing a threatening finger, “you might as well stop it right now.”

Zexion was obviously in a state of mental panic. All he wanted to do was possibly knock Demyx out cold and hope to heaven that it would be enough to get that miserable scheme out of his head. But all he had right now as a possible form of weaponry was his Pepsi can. Even if he chucked the thing at Demyx’s head, Zexion doubted that even at the right trajectory it wouldn’t be enough to give the idiot a concussion, taking his impossibly thick skull into consideration.

“Lighten up, would you? I’m not planning to kill anyone or anything.” Demyx laughed at his own joke, and Zexion paled even more (even unintentionally, Demyx could kill someone). “It’s not as if I’m going to tell anyone about it. But you’re not seeing what I’m really excited about.” Demyx grinned, anticipation shining on his face. “Axel told me about Roxas during freshman year. And you know what? He sounded really serious about him! He liked him for a really long time, y’know. Unfortunately, Axel never did ask him out - I don’t know why. This is our opportunity to make Axel really happy!”

Zexion, starting to feel seriously appalled, was about to interrupt, but couldn’t on account of Demyx being on a roll.

“I’m friends with Roxas, too, so this should be really easy! He seems like a really nice guy - helped me with my English report once. So here’s what I’m thinking: The Talent Show isn’t too far away, and guess who’s the best electric guitar player we know? That’s right: Axel. And the song I want to perform needs a bass guitar, too. Roxas plays bass like a pro. Doesn’t that work out well?

“All we have to do is get Axel and Roxas to play for me, and we’ll work things out from there! I’m pretty sure Axel’s still hung up on Roxas, and if Roxas still has feelings for Axel we’ll find out. Easy enough, right? It’s a win-win situation if everything goes well; I’ll be able to win the title of Talent Champion 2008, and Axel and Roxas will get a chance to work things out.”

Demyx turned to Zexion’s impossibly blank expression with a bright, optimistic smile. “So, Zexion. Let’s make this an interesting year.”

Zexion didn’t know why. Neither did he know how. But most of all, he couldn’t comprehend why his brain wasn’t protesting. Within those moments he should have been screaming at Demyx with all he was worth, “FOR THE LOVE OF YOUR OWN MOTHER, DEMYX. AXEL IS GOING TO HUNT YOU DOWN IF HE FINDS OUT, AND I DON’T WANT TO PICK UP PIECES OF YOU FROM THE FLOOR. DON’T DO IT.”

Zexion, up until the day his hair turned white and he was yelling at the stupid neighbourhood kids to get off his lawn, would never know why he just sat there and kept his mouth closed.

And thus, the series of events subsequent to this highly ironic flashback was born. All because Zexion, for once in his life, didn’t keep his mouth shut, and couldn’t open it moments later.

- - -

(Back to October 5, 2008: Dismissal)

The highly unanticipated victory that Demyx had persevered to gain tasted sweet. Axel, for all his mulishness and arrogance, could break just like a normal person under the right pressure. Demyx had been correct to assume that if he wasn’t in the vicinity at the moment of surprise attack, Axel wouldn’t be able to vent. If he had no verbal and physical punching bag within reach, then his frustration, paranoia, and anger wouldn’t be released - just enough to blow out of proportion at the right moment. The horrendous method of persuasion had worked, and Demyx was exhausted yet proud of his handiwork. Phase One of Operation: Matchmaking! was a success. Phase Two, he deliberated, shouldn’t be too hard at all.

Demyx sauntered optimistically into the third floor music room, looking amidst the mass of heads for the particular one that he was aiming for.

“Axel, you know the funny thing that I noticed?”

His eyes lit up when he saw an array of spiky blond hair.

“What, Dem?”

Demyx quickly strode over to where the alto saxophone players sat, mulling over what he was supposed to say.

“You keep looking at Roxas. And … not just that. I can tell that there’s something real deep to that look you always give him. Mind telling me?”

“Hey, Roxas!” Demyx said, placing a hand on the younger blond’s shoulder, making Roxas glance up from where he sat. “Listen, the teacher’s gonna be late for a few minutes, so would you mind if we have a little chat? There’s something important I wanna ask you.”

Roxas grinned casually at Demyx as he removed his saxophone strap from his neck. “Sure, Demyx.”

“And here I was thinking you weren’t paying attention. No offence, Demyx, but I didn’t think you were that perceptive.”

The two of them walked towards the back of the music room where it was a little more quiet, a ways off from all the chatter and random tunes that students played on their respective instruments. Demyx faced Roxas with a natural smile that hid what little uncertainty he felt.

“Well, I heard that you weren’t trying out for the Talent Show, so I figured that I’d ask you for a little favour. You play bass, right?”

Roxas nodded, placing his hands in the front pockets of his grey sweater. “Yeah, I do. Remember that time when I played for the Peace Campaign?”

“Oh, yeah! How silly, I forgot. You were really awesome, by the way. So since you rock so much, do you think you could play for me at the Talent Show? It’s nothing complicated, just a simple song and a couple of rehearsals here and there.” Demyx waved his hand, trying to seem nonchalant, although he knew that his whole plan was staked on Roxas’ answer. “So what do you say?”

“Anyway … no point in lying about it now. I think …”

Roxas smiled, shrugging with a small chuckle. “Sure, Demyx. No problem. Just tell me where we rehearse and what time.”

“I think I’m falling for Roxas.”