AN: FFF: XD so here is the promised cowrite ^^. Obviously. I luffs mah Kaida *cuddles*. Anyway, It's under M just for safety in case we decide to write... naughty stuff *wiggles eyebrows* ;). And it's under Akuroku for a reason, too. Though there will be multiple side pairings. If you check out what our fave pairings our then you'll know. XD needless to say, it includes Zemyx, Seiner, Soriku and Cleon. More will appear. They will all appear soon. We're gonna try to update fairly regularly but no promises, cos I can't concentrate on anything for some reason right now… Oh, thanks to Alixtair for pointing out Seifer's utter OOCness at one point so we could change it a bit ^^. See you later ^^.

KS: Hey there everyone, Kaida here. Yeah, so FinalFallenFantasy technically wrote this chapter, but I helped... sort of. As she said, multiple pairings, possible smuttiness later, currently just rated for Axel's potty mouth. Enjoy!

I still can't remember why I went to Seifer's apartment that day. My mind was wiped blank of any previous thoughts I may have been having as soon as I heard the first moan. All I know was that I was, for the first time since Zexion had cheated on me, happy. I had a new job and new college course and a wonderful boyfriend. Or so I'd thought.

As I said, I'd gone to his flat. His dingy, dark, oddly clean flat. I have a feeling it was to ask him out to dinner, but I can't be sure. I turned my key in the lock (the key he'd given me only a few weeks ago) and froze as I heard a loud feminine moan. I knew that voice. And how I wished I didn't. I stood at the door to his apartment, feeling already sick to my stomach. It was happening again. Like a robot, I walked to the bedroom, where the sounds were emanating from. When I pushed it open I saw exactly what scene I knew I'd see. Seifer, with someone else in his bed. And not just anyone else. No, it was my ex and last girlfriend, Larxene. She noticed me first and her wicked green eyes widened before she smirked.

"Well surprise, surprise, Axel. You should really stop this habit of walking in on me." I knew I should have felt angry, at the very least betrayed. But all I could think was 'so it's happened again.' And all I could feel was this horrible cold, like someone had poured icy water over my head, spreading throughout my entire body. Seifer glanced up at me and I knew it was only because I was interrupting. Bastard. I didn't need him. I just turned on my heel and walked out, absently picking up a kitchen knife on the way and stabbing it through the front door. I don't even know why. It wasn't even a threat. I just did it.

I went onto the restaurant I'd been planning to eat at with him; I just… I guess I didn't want to go home just yet. So I went and had supper there. I know for a fact that I ordered spaghetti Bolognese because, for some reason, I still have the receipt. Anyway, I went home after that and just lay down, staring at the ceiling and letting whatever thoughts that chose to wander my way slip through my head. I thought I'd found someone special in Seifer. He seemed so… Genuine would be the word, I guess. He didn't bullshit. But, once again, my absolute lack of judge of character came into play and I got broken again. I rolled onto my side and pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. I would not cry for him. He wasn't worth it. He wasn't who I'd thought he was. But, although my eyes stung rather painfully, no tears gathered.

Eventually, I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remember is waking up to a hammering on my door. For a moment, I lay awake and just felt the usual heavy lead weight in my (almost nonexistent) stomach that gathers after I've been cheated on yet again. It took me a moment to realise that yes, once again, someone had lied and broken my heart. It wasn't just some realistic dream. I sat up and rubbed my head, which was aching rather painfully.

"God, I'm coming, I'm coming! Just shut up and wait, you impatient bastard!" I shouted, grumbling as I swung my legs off my bed. I sighed frustratedly out of my nose and paced over to the door, wrenching it open with a slam.

"What the fuck do you want?!" I bellowed. "I am fucking asleep, fucking depressed, and I'm about to let loose on whoever is fucking stupid enough to interrupt me, fuck!" I had somehow realised by then that it wasn't Demyx or that kid who delivers the mail around here.

"Axel…" I closed my eyes and my mouth became a hard, narrow line.

"I don't want to hear it, Seifer Almasy." I made to slam the door but his hand stopped it before it could even reach the doorframe.

"Axel… look. I'm sorry, okay? I don't know what the fuck I-"

"Ah, fuck it, Seif. I've been cheated on twelve too many times now and I'm fucking sick of it. Now leave me the fuck alone or I'm gonna do something drastic. And believe me, you don't want me to let loose on you." I advised him, still unable to force my anger to break through that disgusting cold layer that was stopping me from screaming in his face. I wanted to. But I just couldn't summon the energy.

"Axel-" he tried to grab my arm and I jerked away, glaring like a demon.

"Don't touch me." I hissed. "Now leave before I fucking get my matches." I was always known as a bit of a pyromaniac, and I'd studied both pyrotechnics and, before that, I'd started out on a medical degree. So I knew exactly where to burn that would hurt the most. Seifer's face was… well, he looked hurt, I guess. As hurt as he can look. Which, let's face it, is just a little less scornful than he usually seems. "Seriously. Leave. Now." This time when I closed the door, he didn't stop me. But to this day, I'm still not sure whether I heard a very quiet, "I'm sorry." or not. Probably not. He was never big on apologies.

I ran my hands through my flaming red hair and stood stock still for a moment to gather my bearings. A shower, I decided. I needed a shower.

Whenever something bad, unexpected or irritating happens, I take a shower. Don't ask me why; the heat of the water helps me to forget for a while. I guess it's helped me to stay off rebound sex. After the first couple of times, it just plain sucks. Pity sex is just… well, it's boring. And boring is not what sex should be.

So I headed off to have my shower, letting the water reach its maximum temperature before stepping in. It immediately began to leave bright pink stinging marks on my pale skin, but I liked it that way. It meant that I didn't have to focus on the pain, to use a cliché, in my heart.

When I was finished, my skin was a bright pink and was stinging like mad, but I still didn't feel any better. Twelve times. Twelve fucking times. I shook my head and let the water droplets fly across the bathroom, watching with dull disinterest as they slid down the far walls. I absently picked up a towel from the rack and flung it across my shoulders, though by now it was largely unneeded as the heat of the water was causing it to evaporate faster than the towel would dry it. I sighed once more, feeling that horrible churning in my stomach continuing to wreak havoc on my emotions.

A drink. I needed a drink. If a shower didn't work, then binging alone at home helped. At least for a little while. Then I would wake up with a screaming headache and everything would seem ten times worse.

I pulled on a pair of dark jeans and made my way through to the kitchen, opening the fridge and removing three cans of beer before retrieving a bottle of gin, a jam jar (don't ask. Really) of apple korn and three bottles of whiskey, vodka and rum respectively. These I placed on the counter and produced a glass to make a deadly cocktail in.

I'd learnt from experience that the best way to get drunk quick was to use exactly three parts apple korn to two beer, one whiskey, four rum and one vodka with a glass of gin that was the same size as the cocktail. And funnily enough, the thing never tasted too bad – the apple korn and whiskey made a pleasant burning sensation whilst the others had almost no taste.

I quickly poured out the measurements by eye and sat on the bar stool by the island counter.

"Here's to yet another cheating lover. I remarked ironically before tipping my head back and downing as much of the concoction that I could before pausing for breath.

Two more draughts later and I was already buzzing. By the time it really kicked in, I'd had two glasses of the stuff and was as high as a kite. The thing is, when I get drunk, I get incredibly honest. And happy. Or flirty, depending on the company. But it generally results in me either getting punched or laid. So I've learned that it's easier in the long run to just get drunk by myself.

I set the glass down with a clunk and didn't even notice when it rolled off the countertop and smashed on the floor. Leaning back in the stool perhaps a little too far, I started giggling uncontrollably. For some reason, I found the entire situation hysterical.

Somehow, I ended up on the floor, propped up against the kitchen cabinets, occasionally drinking from the bottle of rum held in my right hand. I don't remember too much of that little episode; being hammered out of one's head tends to have that effect, but I do recall that the doorbell rang about twenty times before I realised what it was and staggered through to the front door. When I opened it, I saw the one person I had known I would see. Demyx, my best of the best (of the best of the best) friend.

"Deeeemyzz…" I slurred, leaning heavily on the doorframe. "It's too funny… Is funny, isn' it?" I fell forwards and wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his neck. My blonde friend sighed and guessed what had happened, walking me backwards into my apartment and pushing me onto the sofa before returning to close and lock the front door.

"Oh, Axel…" He slumped beside me and reached over to brush a few strands of my red hair out of my eyes. "It's happened again, hasn't it?" his sea-green eyes were filled with sympathy and I grinned weakly at him, wielding the bottle like a baton as I gesticulated.

"Yup. Yuppity yup yup yuppers. S'too funny, isn' it? Twelve… Isn' it?" He nodded sadly and moved to hug me but I abruptly changed from sadly amused to angry.

"Twelve… Twelve fucking times I've had to go through this shit! This bloody, stupid, moronic excuse for a pathetic, failing love life. Twelve fucking times, Dem!"

"I know, I know." He murmured, gently removing the bottle from my grasp before pulling me to him in a warm hug.

And before you ask, no, there was never anything of that sort between us; we've always been like brothers. Except for a little while in high school when Demyx realised he was gay and garnered a crush on me. But no, other than that one kiss and sloppy fumble, we've never been together in that way.

When he held me like that and started mumbling soothing words of comfort into my ear, I just broke down and started sobbing like a little child. Because, really, twelve times is too much. Every relationship I'd ever had (apart from that brief and teenage fumble in the dark with my best friend) had ended in betrayal from my partner's side. Every single time.

My first and last girlfriend, Larxene: After five months of dating, I walked in on her fucking some Rastafarian dude with a creepy voice. On my fucking birthday.

My first boyfriend, Luxord: Walked in on him, after three weeks, making out with a man who for some reason was wearing an eyepatch.

Lexaeus, my second boyfriend and possibly hugest mistake (size wise too – the man was a freaking giant): He told me he'd been seeing some girl called 'Larxene' behind my back. Yeah, guess who?

My third boyfriend and the man I lost my virginity to, Saix: turned out he'd been two-timing on his other boyfriend Xemnas with me. For an entire year. I don't know and nor do I care whether Mansex took him back or not.

Fourth boyfriend, Reno: everyone said we were too hard to tell apart and for two years I was convinced that he was the love of my life. He was secretly seeing some blonde guy a few years older than me for the last six months of that time.

Sixth partner: Reno's friend Rude – he was a nice guy at first, but then it turned out that I was just rebound. He's the one who seriously put me off rebound sex; being on the receiving end is just horrible.

Number seven, a complete pansy. Seriously, the guy had pink hair. And… was a florist. And enjoyed being so. His name was Marluxia. He was… really sweet at first, but eventually gave up after realising that I wasn't going to let him tie me up with vines and have his way with me. So… He went and screwed his roommate, whom I had always assumed to be asexual. How could anyone want to fornicate with that greasy old bugger? Vexen, just so you know his name. It is important. Got it memorised? Just… remember all of these. There is a point to this list.

Number eight was Balthier. Now he was a mistake I swear the guy thought he was a pirate (even more so than Luxord's beau). An ass-pirate anyway. Turned out he was screwing not only me, but my best friend and my next boyfriend… We got our revenge. Sort of. But he deserved so much more than what we did to him.

Number nine is… complicated. Because his name was Zexion. And he cheated on me with my best friend. Of course, Demyx didn't know about us, and neither of us are going to tell him. Zexion really seems to care about him and he knows that if he hurts that mulleted sitarist, I'll castrate him with rusty pliers. I never want to see my best friend hurt in the way I was.

Number ten was a complete bastard called Zell Dincht. He realised he was straight and liked blonde chicks with antennae. Guess who popped up once more in my warped excuse for a love life?

Eleven was a goth called Jack, who also turned out to be straight, and was cheating on me with some girl called Sally who looked like one of those creepy dolls.

And, of course, to round out the dozen, my twelfth cheating beau, Seifer. Once again with Larxene.

A few hours later, I woke up to find Demyx still cuddling me, though I think he was asleep too by that time. I sat up and he started awake, shaking his head. I'd drunk enough that I hadn't managed to sleep it off and immediately grabbed the whiskey bottle again to drink another few mouthfuls before Demyx nabbed it from me.

"Axel, that's enough." He protested. "You've drunk way too much already!"

"Why dun you join me?" I slurred, leaning over too far onto him in an attempt to get the bottle back. Demyx, thank god, shook his head and simply shifted further along the couch to keep out of reach.

"Axel, you're going to bed." He informed me, before standing and hauling me to my feet.

"With you?" I asked, wiggling my eyebrows in that absurd way I have.

"No, alone. And you are not having anything more to drink."

He hauled me into my bedroom and helped me remove my shirt before pushing me backwards onto my bed and tucking me in, like the mother hen he is.

"Dun I even get a g'night kizz?" I mumbled, grabbing his arm as he straightened. He smiled softly and chuckled.

"Sure thing, Ax." He leaned down and pecked me on the forehead before standing up again and saying, "Now, you get some sleep and I'll be in the living room to make sure you don't drink any more." The last bit was said in a good-natured way – he didn't really think I'd be stupid enough to keep drinking. I rolled over and, before I could think of previous relationships any more I fell asleep.

In my dreams, I saw that scene again; walking into my partner's flat or home or dorm, only to find them with someone else. My boyfriend was faceless; too many people had cheated for me to see any one of them alone, but the girl he was with was Larxene, with that sadistic smirk and evil glint in her eyes. And, once more, I felt that horrific blow to my stomach, that icy fist around where my heart should have been, torn out by yet another breaker of trust.

I woke up with a small cry of anger, immediately wide awake. I threw off the covers and stood up, running a shaky hand through my hair. The only thought running through my head was; 'Again. It's happened again. Shit, it's happened again.' It took me a few moments to realise that my head was splitting with a hangover and I clutched at it in agony.

"God… I need a drink… Goddammit." I staggered through to the kitchen, ignoring the snoring Demyx on the sofa. I just grabbed the closest bottle of alcohol and chugged it. All I remember about it as that it wasn't the nicest tasting liquor I'd had… I'm guessing it was vodka and some other unknown beverage. But all I know is that it took less than three minutes for it to hit me.

However, this time, I was severely pissed off. What the fuck had I done to deserve getting cheated on in every single fucking relationship I'd ever been in? What the hell had I done, huh? What the fucking hell had I done to make love treat me like shit?! I turned on my heel and threw the glass bottle at the wall, where it smashed satisfyingly, spraying alcohol across the room. Why, for the love of fuck, why? I dropped to the floor and leaned against the kitchen cabinets, drawing my knees up under my chin and trying not to sob too loudly; I still had my ragged, torn and stubborn pride. I didn't want Dem to see me like that.

Demyx:

I popped around to see Axel the day before… it happened. Well, the day after the other 'it' happened. Well, I suppose I should start that again. Properly. OK, well… Axe has a bad history of lovers… Putting it mildly. He has been cheated on in every single relationship, no joke. And yet he keeps hurting himself. That's why I love him so much. He is my brother, my soulmate and my best friend. I mean 'soulmate' in an entirely platonic way. I think he is incredibly brave and very strong, to be able to have put up with all of that without truly cracking.

Anyway, he had found a new boyfriend (we had both long ago admitted to each other that we were gay) and I was just happy to see him happy, for the first time in so long. It seemed like this relationship might actually work out. But then, of course, as with every other one, it didn't.

I think I knew when he didn't call me after he was supposed to be going out with Seifer. He always called me after a date, excited, nervous, disappointed, amused or even a little bit tipsy. So when he didn't call, I immediately assumed what had happened. That's why I went round there the next day. I was afraid he might have hurt himself.

To tell the truth, I was a little glad that he had only gotten smashed. I've walked in on worse. But that one incident is never to be spoken of again. I'll leave it to your imagination what he was doing. Needless to say, it involved a sharp object.

Anyway, I took away his bottle and put him to bed. I trusted him enough not to stay in there and watch him while he slept. I went into the lounge and lay down on the sofa, glad that he wasn't taking it as badly as I had thought he might. But I had a sinking feeling that he wasn't as unhurt as he seemed.

After a few fruitless hours of staring blankly at the silent TV, I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes. Might as well get a bit of sleep before dealing with a broken hearted redhead with a hangover.

The next thing I knew was waking up to the sound of smashing glass from the kitchen.

"Shit!" I leapt up, a million scenarios involving Axel and broken shards of razor-sharp glass flashing through my mind. I ran towards the door leading to the kitchen and tripped over first a table, my own feet and then slammed straight into the wall. Clutching at my (possibly broken) nose, I reeled backwards, whimpering slightly in pain. With one hand splayed across my face, I reached out with the other to find the doorframe and pulled myself into the kitchen, staring between my fingers at my best friend.

He was curled up against the kitchen cabinets and evidently trying desperately not to cry in front of me, shirtless and rather wet from what I would imagine had been the contents of the smashed bottle distributed across the floor. I dropped to my knees beside him and reached out to pull him into a hug, mumbling,

"Oh, Axel…" but he violently wrenched away, making my heart twinge slightly. He never refused a hug. As brash and loud and independent as he might sometimes seem, he was always a very physical person; constantly hugging and touching others around him, as though to make sure that they weren't going to leave him. Especially me. I think I've been hugged by him more than all of his previous relationships combined. "Axel…" I whispered, sighing. "Axel, you'll get through this. You're not alone. And you'll find someone bette-"

"No, Dem!" he hissed, sitting up again and glaring at me with an intensity that burned my soul. "No. I won't. I fucking won't. They're all the fucking same. Every one of them. Every single fucking human being on this fucked-up planet is exactly the fucking same. Seifer, Larxene, Zexion, me, even you. We're all just fucked-up heartless bastards who can't do fucking anything but hurt each other and get hurt back. What is the point, Demyx? What is the bloody point?! When even your best friend is killing you inside every single fucking day and you can't do a fucking thing about it?" I blinked and felt almost as though he'd punched me with that last outburst. I was hurting him? Even me? But how? How, dammit?!

"Ax… Ax, how?" I tried to get out more but I couldn't even force out more than those few words. No matter how drunk, how upset, how hurt he got, he would always try to never take it out on me. Not after the first time. Every time after that, he'd stop in the middle of whatever sentence he was saying that was obviously designed to hurt me, and just walk away. And he'd always apologise the next day. But… this was different. Never had Axel fixed me with such an intense, anger-filled gaze as this. And that hurt.

"I hate you." Those three words broke my heart, and I stood, running blindly out of his apartment, biting a knuckle hard to keep from crying. Why? What did I do? I've always been accused of being childish, but I suppose most of that stems from a simple craving for approval. Axel was my first real friend and having him say… It just hurt so goddamn badly. And I couldn't take that. Not when I was already trying to shoulder some of his pain. But I suppose, if I hadn't run, that day… Then none of this would have happened.

Axel:

"Shit." I heard myself say. I leaned my head back against the cool cupboard door and sighed frustratedly, tangling my fingers in my hair and wrenching, hard. I hadn't meant to take it out on Demyx… What kind of a friend was I? I asked myself. How come I never did anything but hurt people? I only ever held them back. Because I was around, people became unfaithful, people became hurtful. And because I was around, Demyx's relationship with Zexion would always be awkward around me. It would be better for everyone, myself included, if I just died. Suddenly my eyes snapped open and a maniacal grin lit my face. Well why not? I thought. You'll let Demyx and Zexion go and you'll never bother anyone again. And no one can hurt you after this… I jumped to my feet, ignoring the splintered glass that dug into my skin as I strode out of the kitchen. I suppose it was a testament to my state of mind that I didn't even stop to put on a shirt or coat.

I just walked right out of my apartment, leaving the door wide open for anyone who wished to come in. Ignoring the elevator, I almost ran down the dingy, slippery staircase, slipping on the last two steps and crashing to the ground, grazing my hands and tearing a hole in my trousers. But I didn't care. It was snowing, and I shivered a little at the cold, but what was the point of going back for a jacket? I just sped away, out of the complex and towards the main road, where I knew cars regularly upped the speed limit.

Just out of sight, I watched the road, waiting for a fast car to come along, not even worrying about what I was about to do. I was drunk, betrayed, heartbroken, tired, sick and snapped. I was getting out. I was going to somewhere better, someplace I wouldn't be hurt by those bastards any more. I was making Demyx's life easier, I was ridding the burden of myself from life.

A red sports car whizzed past too fast for me to react and I cursed loudly, shocking a nearby old woman. Then I remembered that around that time every day a small white Renault would speed by, regularly speeding by at least double the limit. Now there was an opportunity to end it. I listened hard for the telltale sound of an over-revved engine, my eyes open and glancing in both directions to spot it.

Ah, there. I heard it. That little white car. Zooming along the road at at least fifty. I licked my lips, suddenly nervous. Was I sure? Was I doing the right thing? And the next thing I knew, I was running. A scream, a sudden immense pain and my vision going as white as my death sentence.

The last thing I heard was the squealing of brakes.