Warning: Boylove, swearing, violence, mentions of anorexia, self harm, paedophilia, and of course, the horrible butchering of Kingdom Hearts and Final Fantasy characters.

Pairings: AkuRoku, Zemyx, XigDem, MeganxSeifer, some MarVex, possibly Cleon later on... what? I'm a fangirl, so sue me!

This is my first fanfic, so if you guys hate it... well, I don't blame you. Feel free to flame me, but just so you know, every time you flame a fanfiction, a chocobo dies...

Oh, and I don't own these characters, which is probably for the best, since I would do things to Axel that would... ANYWAY, on with the story!

Megan

"Can you feel it?" I whispered, my fingers tightening on my knee. I had almost forgotten that there was someone else sat beside me for a moment; I had almost brushed it, I had nearly felt it, I was sure.

"I'm not sure what I'm meant to be feeling, Megan."

I leapt to my feet. "The fire! The fire, for God's sake, we're trying to find the fire! Did you even read the email I sent you last night?"

"Yeah, and none of it made any sense, but you refuse to explain in person." The dirty blonde squirmed in his seat, obviously not looking forward to my reaction.

"It made perfect sense, Demyx!" I exploded, kicking the doorframe. "I know that we can control the fire, Demyx! I'm sure that we can talk to it; it can't just be a few people who can do it! If we can just find it..." I trailed off wistfully, filled with desire that some may have called "pyromania".

Really, I couldn't help it. I had been researching this for a year now. Fire Whisperers were everywhere, I was so sure. Some people even blamed them for things like crop circles, claiming that cornfields were the ideal testing grounds for their powers, and if they did it right, it could look like it was totally inexplicable, like aliens or witchcraft or –

"Megan, you're starting to worry me. Have you ever met a Fire Whisperer? Have you ever – erm – have you ever actually talked to fire?" He was treating me like a crazy person. I wasn't crazy. Naminé told me so, and she knew me at least as well as Dem did.

"No, Dem, but I know that it's possible. Roxas believes me." This added a whole lot of strength to my argument. Demyx trusted Roxas like a blind person trusts their guide dog. "He said so the other day."

"He also said that Seifer was a perfectly nice guy and that I was heterosexual! He just wants to keep everyone happy, Meg." I scowled. He knew not to call me Meg. "Megan, I'm sorry, but I don't think that this is going to happen."

I strode over to my chest of drawers and ripped open the drawer labelled "Underwear". There wasn't a single bra or pair of panties in there; instead it was filled to the brim with sheets of paper, some only taken out of the packet yesterday and others crumpled and slightly yellow with age.

"Here you are, Demyx. A year of blood, sweat and tears, all culminating in you backing out on me and Roxas being too busy with Hayner. Oh, and Naminé is in Hollow Bastion for the week. Those reports are meticulous and detailed, and these," I held up my hands, "are the papercuts that prove it. Everything is handwritten, typed up and saved on my computer, and stored on my memory stick just in case. It's not a silly little phase, Demyx, no matter how much you act like it is. It's like – it's like an obsession. I know that we can talk to fire, Demyx, you and me and Roxas and Naminé, anybody could talk to fire if –"

"Why would I want to talk to fire? I'm scared of fire, Megan. I want to be able to talk to water. Teach me how to do that, then I'll be on your side."

"You'll be on my side anyway, if you want a certain Zexion McEmoface to ever pay you any attention," I said, reminding him not-so-gently of the deal we'd made yesterday. He had an enormous crush on some guy called Zexion, and I knew far more about the kid than I needed to. Things like his shoe size and the brand of deodorant he used after PE. I couldn't be accused of insanity by a guy who stalked his crushes, could I?

Demyx sighed. "Dad wouldn't like to think that you're emotionally blackmailing me, Meg."

I snarled. "I don't give a flying fuck about Dad! You wouldn't tell him, anyway. That bastard called Roxas a fag last week, you were there, you heard him, he said "Stop spending some much time with that Hayner kid, you little fag". You couldn't possibly tell him that I was threatening you about Zexion."

Demyx pouted and I felt a wave of guilt knock me off my figurative surfboard. He was so innocent, more a big puppy than a big brother. Technically we weren't even related; we were both adopted, as was the youngest, our lickle Roxas. (He reacts to being called Roxie the same way I react to being called Meggy – with a fist.) Demyx and Roxas shared the same blonde hair, though Dem's was darker. I twiddled my own dark locks a little resentfully – I didn't look like I had anything to do with the two of them, but my adoptive brothers did come across as related – if not brothers, then cousins, maybe, or uncle and nephew. I just looked like the odd one out, my eyes dark brown and my hair darker, my skin positively white in contrast to Roxas and Dem's healthy pinkish-brownish.

"Megan?" Demyx said, interrupting me. "Do you think Dad would hate me if he found out I was gay?"

"You mean, if he hasn't already noticed?" I asked, pointing to the greenish-blue scarf around his neck. He muttered something about it bringing out his eyes and I smiled. "Anyone who has it in themselves to hate you should be burned on the spot." I remembered what Dem had said about fire and water. "Or drowned, if you prefer."

Demyx smiled uncertainly and put a hand on my forearm. I'm not massive on the whole touching-people thing – unless it's to punch them in the face – but I could tolerate it from Dem and Roxas. And sometimes Naminé, my best friend (most of the time), if she caught me on the right day and didn't prolong it. "Megan? I'm sorry about it not working earlier. I'm sure you'll find the fire soon."

"And then I can get to work on the water for you," I said, grinning and pulling my arm away. "Now let's get some ice cream."

"Sea salt?" he asked, and I shook my head, pulling a face.

"If it weren't for Roxas then I think the sea salt ice cream industry would go bust. That stuff is vile. No, I was thinking chocolate for you and mint for me."

Demyx got slowly to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. That was a habit of his that only arose when he was thinking.

"Megan, I'm really glad you're my little sister. Even if you don't act like the younger one." I knew what Demyx was saying and I knew where he was coming from, and I nodded, smiling slightly, as we left to get totally not salty ice creams.

Roxas

I strolled into the office at 8:08am exactly, two minutes earlier than I was told to be there. The secretary pointed to the blue chairs that the "bad kids" normally sat in and I nodded, trying for a polite smile. I thoroughly disliked the fake-blonde, obvious-boob-job secretary who spent a large part of her time filing her nails and talking about calories. I had an enormous amount of respect for women – Megan had pummelled it into me over the years – but as she frequently told me, "A female misogynist is at least as bad as a male one". In short, the girls who followed and enforced the sexist rules were no better than the people who conjured them up. Something along those lines, anyway.

I lowered myself onto the blue chair furthest from the door I'd entered through and waited, trying to enjoy the bristly pot plant that dug into my arm. I didn't want to move now that I had sat down for fear of drawing the secretary's attention. I was too bad at feigning politeness to afford another encounter with her.

The doors flew open after a painful forty-two seconds (there was an absolutely fascinating clock on the wall that saved me from looking at the secretary's totally unflattering eyeshadow) but it wasn't my new "assignment" coming through the door – it was Megan, being brutally pushed by Dr. Vexen.

"Sit on the blue chairs and stay there until I return with the headmaster!" he commanded, not even looking at me. She gave him a terrifying death glare – oh, sweet nostalgia – before turning on the heel of her size 6 combat boot and throwing herself onto a chair beside me.

I waited until Vexen had gone to talk. "Megan, what the Hell did you do? If you get held back again then I swear –"

"Chill, Roxas, I doubt I'll be held back again." I hoped so – having Megan in my class would be torture, especially since she was meant to be graduating with Demyx this year and already resented the fact that he was ahead of her. "It's just that apparently, giving homemade tattoos to my classmates is against school rules. Well, I've read the school rules five times, front to back, to find all the loopholes, and nowhere does it say that I can't give tattoos. I just can't have them."

"That's like saying that you can deal drugs, as long as you don't take them." I kept the arm closest to Megan nice and relaxed, because punches hurt tensed muscles more. Or was that needles? Oh, well, best not to take any risks.

"Actually, there's a rule against dealing and using in the school rules," she said, the point flying over her head. I gave up and sighed.

"At least you're not in the shrink's office again. God, I hate Marluxia." I shuddered at the memory of his sickly smile when he'd asked me how I felt about Megan's "little fire problem". I felt fine about it. Endless research kept her out of trouble more than anything else ever had, and it was sort of fun sometimes, trying to "feel the fire" with my eyes closed, legs crossed and sitting on pillows in her room, like meditating.

"N'aww, I love Marly," she said. She had spent far more time in there than she should have, probably because of her habit of talking to the Bunsen burners during Chemistry lessons, trying to get the fire to listen to her. Oh, and the violence, though Marly said that that was "perfectly understandable" for a girl her age and that it "wasn't to be worried about".

"The fact that you feel some affection for the school counsellor, as well as using his nickname, suggests to me that you spend too much time with him," I joked, and was rewarded with a fairly light thump. "It's eleven minutes past – they're late."

Megan smirked. "I'm normally about ten minutes late for every lesson, if not more, and teachers don't bat an eyelid. Don't fret over just one minute, Roxas."

I took a look at my older sister. It didn't feel like we were both adopted. Well, Dad didn't really feel like a dad. But Megan was my aggressive, loving big sister with a mouth larger than it should have been, and Demyx was the enormous softy that looked after both of us.

Megan looked down at her black painted, heavily bitten nails with just a hint of unease in her face. "You don't think they'd kick me out, do you, Roxas?"

"No, I don't," I lied warmly, laying a hand on her arm. If I'd been anyone else, my hand wouldn't have remained attached to my wrist for very long. "I bet you'll be fine, Megan." I glanced at the clock. In just twenty seconds it would be 8:13am... ten... five...

"Alright, which of you bitches it showing me around this dump?" someone introduced himself by saying, tumbling through the double doors on the other side of the room. He looked Megan and I up and down, and we surveyed him.

He had ridiculously spiky red hair, all kept away from his face, which was pale (not Megan-pale, though – that girl was unhealthy) and bore tattoos beneath both eyes – eyes that stopped me in my tracks. They were, well, green.

So what, you ask? There are loads of green-eyed people around. Hell, sometimes Megan's eyes looked a little green. But this guy's eyes were the green of... of a lime lollipop, clear, sparkling, just-a-little-sour green. And they had eyeliner on them, not as much as Megan but more than Demyx usually wore, making them look narrower, almost like cat's eyes. And then I realised a disturbing something else.

He was attractive.

I looked away quickly, glanced at my feet, then looked back at him, talking to his shoulder. "I – um – I am." I stood up and held out a hand, hoping it wasn't shaking. What the Hell? This was a guy, for fuck's sake. Demyx was the gay one, not me. And either way, it wasn't like me to develop a crush so soon – like, at-first-sight sort of soon. "I'm Roxas."

"Cool," he said, shaking my hand. His palm was very, very warm. I made the decision never to tell Megan this in case she decided to start talking about Fire Whisperers again. Speaking of Megan... She was sitting on the very edge of her seat, her mouth hanging slightly open. I looked at her questioningly and she shook her head like there was water in her ears. She was still raking her eyes up and down this guy, not like she was checking him out, more like she expected something from him. Oh God, please don't let this guy become a victim of Megan's fire obsession. I broke away from the handshake first, cramming my fists into my pockets. "Um..."

"Gosh, Roxie, don't look so scared, I don't bite." My jaw clenched and I think Megan saw it, because she piped up.

"I wouldn't call him Roxie. His older brother still has bruises from the last time he tried that."

"And who might you be?" he shot back, the green in his eyes reminding me suddenly of venom.

"I'm the girl who'll pummel you into the ground if you're not nice to my little brother over there," she said, gesturing to me as she stood up. After a while you kind of got used to the gut-wrenching embarrassment of your big sister fighting all your battles for you. And it wasn't like it didn't have its advantages...

"Oh, really?" he said, cocking a crimson eyebrow.

"Megan, don't..." I muttered as she took a step forwards. "Really, Megan..."

"Oh, we have a Meggy here, do we?" he smirked, standing his ground. Oh, shit. I got out from between the two of them sharpish as Megan crossed the room and grabbed his shirt.

"Don't. Call me. Meggy." She was slightly pink in the face and I feared for the new guy's life.

"Why's that, Meggy?" he asked, and she pulled an arm back, ready to hit him. I grabbed hold of her and pulled her back; she was a whole lot taller than me and it was only her surprise that meant I was able to move her at all.

The doors swung open and two angels in the form of Vexen, the Chem teacher, and Xemnas, the principal, strode in.

"What is going on here?" Xemnas demanded, standing tall and proud behind the new kid.

"Roxas is giving me a hug, what did it look like?" Megan sarcasmed (no, sarcasm isn't a verb. But it should be), prying my hands off her punching arm.

"Oh, it's that Megan girl again. Vexen, what did I say in the staff meeting? Just send her straight to Marluxia." Megan's jaw dropped and the redheaded newbie looked confused.

"Marluxia? That's all? I gave half my grade free tattoos! Including Seifer! And you're just going to send me to the counsellor?"

"Seifer? You've been hanging out with him again?" I asked. Megan looked over at me.

"He overheard me begging Naminé to let me practice tattooing on her and offered to let me do it on him. Keep your head on, Roxas, I was just enjoying his pain when I stuck the needles into him." I scowled. I had never liked Seifer, but after what happened last year with the pumpkin in my sister's bedroom...

"Megan, I don't think you need punishment, I think you need help," Xemnas said, as Vexen stammered his disbelief. He hated Megan. Most teachers did. "Your obsession with "talking to fire" is nothing short of worrying. Go on, off you go. I assume you know where Marluxia's office is?"

Megan was still in a bad mood from being called "Meggy" by the new kid, and she looked ready to "feel the fire" – and to direct it straight at Xemnas. "I permanently inked a skull onto Seifer's ass!" she cried, getting the attention of the secretary, who looked down her nose (scheduled for slight adjustment at the Women's Cosmetic Surgery Centre this Friday) at my incredibly pissed off sister, who probably felt like her rebellion was going totally unnoticed.

"Seifer's ass? Megan!" I yelled. I felt sick just thinking about it. I was going to totally kill that guy. With fire, if it made Megan happier.

"Come on, Roxas, I had to practice on someone, and he wouldn't have it anywhere else –"

"When was this?" I demanded. "Where was this?"

The new guy was watching it all with a small smile on his lips, and I admit that parts of it must have looked like a soap opera.

"About two weeks ago, in the guy's bathroom."

"On school property!" Vexen exclaimed, determined to get Megan nailed for something. "And in a bathroom that was off-limits to her anyway!"

Megan fixed her brown eyes on my blue ones. "Seifer told me that he'd help me with the fire thing, as well. I had to, little bro."

I wasn't any less angry when I heard that and she knew it. Seifer was even more of a dick in my eyes now, knowing that he had pulled one of Megan's most responsive strings – the fire thing.

"Megan, just go to Marluxia's office before I get bored of this conversation and remove you from my school." With a healthy glare at Vexen, then the new kid, she stormed out, obviously pissed. Not as pissed as me though, for a change. We were talking about Seifer when we got home and she knew it.

After I'd lectured her about trying to kill newbies.

And lectured the newbie about calling me "Roxie".

God, I was practically collecting things to nag people about.

xxx

...*tries to hide behind bed in order to not get killed* I know, it's awful. And I might need to change the rating later on. Still, if you feel like reviewing or anything...

Oh, and just so you know, this fanfic is gonna be packed with references. I don't think there are any in this chapter, but if you spot one, now or later on, and you mention it in the reviews, I will... erm... do something. Give you an internet hug, maybe. And please... don't kill me.