Axel cleared his throat nervously as he stepped up onto the stage and behind the wooden podium, the white paper clenched in his left hand. He faced the crowd of everyone he knew, including the bookish, enigmatic Zexion; the stoic, sarcastic Saïx; the gum-chewing sitarist Demyx; his younger brother Lea; several Moogles here and there, as well as the rest of his friends, acquaintances, neighbors, and family.
It's all right, he told himself as he took steady breaths, in, out, in, out; I've no need to be nervous; it's not like I'm being ordered to kill a friend or break the news of a kidnapping to someone. His acid emerald eyes scanned the crowd once more before he sighed and looked up. Up on the theatre rafters sat his second-best friend, Roxas, who gave him a thumbs-up before shutting off all of the lights and clicking the spotlight onto the lanky redhead.
Breathe. I'll be fine.
"Er... Well, I'm glad all of you could make it..." he began. Far in the back of the assembled crowd, Lock, Shock, and Barrel, three neighborhood kids always up to trouble, snickered at his lame opening, breaking the slightly awkward silence of the gathered people. A soft pop was heard as the blueberry bubblegum Demyx had been blowing burst; beside him, Zexion rolled his eyes and cracked open a thick black book, the one he always carried around with him, no matter what, and began reading. Axel mentally groaned at his lack of public speaking skills, but brushed it off with an encouraging gesture from Xion, his sable-haired friend sitting in the front row; with another deep breath, he continued to speak. "This letter, from The Author, was left tacked onto the front door of the CRC lobby (which, incidentally, cracked the glass a bit), with instructions for, uh, me to, um, read it."
Everyone stared at either him or the paper in his hand, hovering just above the podium, in boredom, curiosity, or awkward politeness. Axel would have bet he could hear crickets chirping in the distance, and it was still only noon. From above, Roxas rolled his cerulean eyes and fished a blue super-ball from the pocket of his pants; aiming with one eye slightly closed, the blond dropped the ball down from the rafters and onto Axel's head, hitting him just enough to catch his attention, but not enough to actually hurt.
"Ow." There were scattered giggles from the audience as Axel rubbed his head ruefully and glared up at the ceiling. Clearing his throat, he shrugged and glanced down at the paper, reading the words to his friends.
"The Author would like to inform all readers that this following story is based on a prompt shared between her and her wonderful friend, WeDidItForTheDead. Both authors were to write their own story based on the prompt, and publish it on December 20th, 2011, and see what the other wrote. Each story includes multicolored duct tape, Ramses of Egypt, the curiously odd phrase "Happy Merry Hallow-Easter", a cameo from Jack Skellington as Sandy Claws, and Marluxia and Larxene kissing underneath mistletoe." He squinted closer at the spidery handwriting as cheers from Jack's fans and wolf whistles for the two super-models were heard in the Auditorium. The people standing on the carpet fidgeted as they wondered what else was written on the mysterious scrap of paper. Axel grinned.
"The main characters for this story, titled A Very Merry Christmas Bash, will be––" He trailed off to build up the suspense and tension, and watched with a slight smirk at the individuals hoping for their names to be announced; after half a minute or so, he decided to relent and announce the 'winners' of the nonexistent 'contest'.
"Luxord, Zexion, Riku, and Demyx!"
A loud cheer rose up collectively from amongst the group as the four names were called; Luxord looked quite pleased with himself, and struck a pose; Riku, being hugged by both Kairi and Naminé, could only smile and wave; Demyx proudly strummed his sitar, grinning at his cheering friends; and Zexion shut his book, merely looking mildly irritated at the noise. Several people (including Olette, Braig, Genie, and Hayner) began pushing the four individuals up to the stage to stand with Axel.
Braig took it upon himself to swipe Zexion's book from him to force him to come up to the theatre stage in order to retrieve it, much to the amusement of Ansem and a few other adults, who watched the halfway unintentionally comical chase with stifled laughter. It didn't take too long for Zexion to outwit Braig and steal his book back, and soon all four young adults stood upon the stage, to the left of the redheaded CDC's Organization XIII member. Axel coughed twice to reclaim everyone's attention, and continued to read the strange letter.
"It says here... that The Author apologizes in advance for any... OOC-ness, whatever that means, and for any possibly crack-ish material The Reader may encounter. There is also a warning for... possible Final Fantasy references and cameos...? What?" The redhead glanced over his shoulder at the others, who peered at the crumpled paper in curious befuddlement and confusion. "What is this craziness?" Demyx's mouth pulled down at the corners for less than a moment and he shrugged, grinning now, and he scratched the back of his head.
"I dunno... Is there anything else? Like, maybe an explanation or something?" Axel shook his head, slightly shaking the crimson spikes he had for hair, and flipped the paper over; the back was blank.
"Nope. Nothing. All it says after that is The Author hopes that The Reader enjoys reading A Very Merry Christmas Bash, and has a wonderful holiday with plenty of cheer and goodwill towards the Earth and all of its inhabitants. P.S.- A review would be a wonderful present. Right." He crumpled up the paper quickly into a tight little ball and threw it across the room, neatly tossing it into the rubbish bin in the corner.
"TEN POINTS FOR GRYFFINDOR!" shouted Sora and Tidus in unison, giving each other high-fives, at the clean shot. Axel grinned, and turned to the four others standing on the stage. His two purple inverted teardrop tattoos looked nearly violet in the light as he smiled, starkly contrasting with his pale skin and bright green eyes.
"So. Guess that's that." Roxas slid down from the rafters on a rope, and landed on the stage with a dull thud. Walking leisurely over to the five, he watched as the Auditorium began to empty slowly with Axel's words, with everyone returning either to work or their break, with some staying in the room to chat with friends. The blond grinned as he leaned an arm on Riku's shoulder, earning him a halfheartedly irritated glance.
"So. When's the story?" he asked. "Nice reading, by the way." Axel took a mock bow, sweeping off an imaginary hat off of his head.
"Why, thank you, Sir Roxas of the Golden Head and Sarcastic Tongue. Nice lighting." Roxas rolled his eyes and kicked him, much to the amusement of Demyx and Riku. Zexion sighed and picked up the super-ball at his feet, handing it to the short blond before him.
"You've ignored his question; now I'm curious as well. When is the story?" His aquamarine eyes widened for a moment as Luxord slapped his back with a laugh.
"Just give it some time and you'll see." With a narrow glare, Zexion neatly side-stepped the British blond and cleared his throat quietly.
"Hm. Well, if you don't mind, until the story begins I think I shall––" With a grin, Axel caught a hold of Zexion's plain black shirt and kept him from leaving.
"Oh, but the story's about to start! Why miss all the fun? You're one of the main characters!"
"Unfortunately," the slate-grey-haired young man muttered, attempting to swat the pale hand off. Demyx grinned, placed his sitar against the wall, and walked over.
"Aw, don't be like that, Zexy~!" Bending down, he smiled at Zexion and patted his head, cleanly avoiding the swipe of the thick book from the other. The youth groaned and mentally wished the sitarist a painful and hallucinatory night.
"If you address me as such one more time––" Quickly, Roxas and Axel excitedly shh-ed the two, and beckoned Riku and Luxord to come closer.
"The story's about to begin!"
Christmas bells rang harmoniously through the cold December morning, following the swift wind as it tolled seven long times. The falling snow only marginally muffled the reverberating chimes as it drifted down from the light blue-grey sky, a similar colour to the hair of the young man leaning against the brick wall of Aerith Gainsborough's flower shop. He wore a long, black trench coat with boots to match, and wore a monochrome checkered scarf around his throat and mouth, to shield his delicate skin from the cold. Arms crossed over his chest, he watched impassively as cars passed by the snowy streets of Traverse Town, crowding the lanes, and full of people going to work. It was Friday morning, December 23rd of the year 2011, and the man in black was waiting.
Presently, the owner of the store of whose wall he was leaning against, Aerith, came walking into view. Through his peripheral vision, he saw her give him a friendly wave; he waved back with a gloved hand as she came closer, her keys jangling lightly in her right hand.
"Good morning, Zexion," she greeted as she inserted the key into the door's keyhole; with a neat twist of her wrist, the door click-ed and unlocked, as she hummed lightly to herself. The man in black, Zexion, as his name was, flicked his glance at the young woman, noting how her auburn hair was flecked with snow, and tilted his head.
"Do you think so?" Aerith giggled with a smile and nodded her head, removing her hand from the doorknob and resting it against her hip.
"Why, of course; don't you?" The scarfed man silently shrugged his reply, and Aerith gestured with a pale hand to her store. "Would you care to come inside and warm up, then?" It was quite chilly outside, and though she could see that he wore a long coat, gloves, a scarf, and pair of boots, his cheeks were tinted pink, and she could have sworn that he was shivering, if only slightly. Zexion shook his head, causing the messy, slate-blue bangs in half of his face get in his eyes; with a flick of his head, he corrected their position, while still keeping his arms folded.
"No, thank you. I have business to attend to this morning, and need to wait outside, right here, or else I shall miss my assignment." The red-haired woman raised an eyebrow at his words, but, used to the strange man's frequent comings and goings, she nodded once and bid him good day, before entering her store and preparing to sell the day's blossoms.
More cars passed by, creating larger and larger snow drifts to the sides of the road, and the time slowly crawled by, accompanied by more snow falling from up above. The number of pedestrians walking along the sidewalk increased as well, though none of them gave the man in black a second glance as they passed him. They were interesting people, he noticed; some were wearing fur coats, some were holding small children by the hand, and a few people were wearing Christmas party costumes. He counted exactly seven men and one woman dressed up as Santa's elves, carrying large, tan, lumpy sacks on their backs. Children, boys and girls, chased them with cheers, their high voices only momentarily distracting the man as he waited and watched. It was now a quarter past eight, and the man he was to meet had yet to come.
Zexion, out of boredom, began curling his toes inside his boots, attempting to ward off the inevitable numbness that was overtaking them, and began recalling memories of warmth, in an attempt to warm himself. It worked for a few minutes, but after the few short memories faded away, he felt colder than before, and involuntarily shivered. Aerith came out of the store minutes later, holding a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate in her hands. She handed it to him, and he took it gratefully, uncrossing his arms to take the beverage in his gloved hands. He sipped at the dark chocolate drink slowly, careful not to burn his tongue, and smiled when he saw tiny marshmallows dotting the frothy surface. He thanked her, and she smiled, before twirling around and returning back into the shop.
Taking another sip, the slate-haired man glanced at the cathedral's clock-tower to check the time. It was nearly eight-thirty, and still the man had not shown up. Zexion sighed, a puff of white escaping from his lips, and gripped the reindeer-printed ceramic mug just a big tighter, resolving to return home if the man did not show up by nine-thirty.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and bit his lip. If he stuck out his tongue, he could just reach the tip of the lowered scarf, but why would he want to? He could already smell the stench of pipe exhaust and smoke in the air; he had no desire to taste it as well. And if he caught a snowflake while his tongue was out, what would he do with it? It would only melt in his mouth and leave a slight taste of marginally polluted water. He took another sip of Aerith's hot chocolate and watched the passersby, hoping that soon, one of them would approach him with a letter in hand.
The silver bells hanging against Aerith's glass door jangled loudly, attracting Zexion's attention. A tall man with platinum blond hair in a Caesar cut and a cropped goatee walked out, holding a bright red poinsettia in a pot, laughing lightly.
"Yes, yes; thank you, Aerith. I shall. Merry Christmas!" Zexion scoffed softly as the blond walked towards him, his piercing blue eyes meeting Zexion's aquamarine ones. He wore a similar outfit to Zexion's own, sans the scarf and with longer, looser sleeves.
"Good day, Zexion," he greeted in a British accent. "You look cold." The slate-haired man shrugged and took another sip of the chocolaty beverage; half was gone, and he had to tilt his head slightly upwards.
"Saïx never showed up. I've been waiting for approximately two hours at the exact spot he specified, right here." The British man's expression softened into one of sympathy, and he sighed.
"I s'pose, then, that you've not received the memo?" Zexion looked up, a suspicious glint in his darkening eyes.
"What memo...?" He watched as the man shifted his hold on the pot and reached into his coat, pulling out a crisp off-white envelope between two leather-gloved fingers.
"This memo. Inside are our orders; as I've already memorized mine, you may keep the note. All missions are suspended except ones explicitly specified otherwise, until further notice." Zexion scowled and glared at nothing in particular, frustrated and cold.
"Does our mission count? Are we to suspend that as well?" The blond man nodded.
"Aye. Those on recon were to continue monitoring activity, but weare to stop our work until the Superior returns." Zexion groaned and hit the back of his head against the brick wall.
"Damn it!" The blond gently patted the shorter one's shoulder as he angrily muttered a string of curses in Ivalician. "Why are they suspended?" The British man sighed and slipped the note into the other's outer pocket.
"...Xemnas and Saïx were called away to an emergency meeting in Radiant Garden, courtesy of Governor Ansem. They won't be back until after the holidays. Xigbar has said that they've received intelligence that some organization members are being monitored, and that we're to act normal until whoever is spying on us grows bored, and leaves us alone. You can't very well run a secret, stealth operation while being watched." The slate-haired man sighed and drew in deep breaths, calming himself and regaining his cool. He took the note from his outer pocket and slid it into a secret one inside his coat, just in case. The parchment was quite light, and the black seal of wax on it was only partially lifted off of the paper. A stray gust of wind entered the warm cavities of his coat as he quickly slipped the note in.
"No, you can't," he agreed, though his polite tone was slightly colder than before. "Thank you, Luxord, for both your time and the information. I think I shall return home, then, and catch up on sleep." Luxord smiled kindly and rubbed his shoulder as the younger man stood up, not leaning against the wall anymore, and turned to leave.
"Look on the bright side: you'll be free for the holidays, eh? You'll have time to relax. No collections or eliminations for at least a week." Zexion did not turn around as he replied.
"That will be the trouble. I will have empty time on my hands, with nothing truly productive to do, save perhaps reading my books and writing some reports." The blond man in black frowned at this, and did not let go of the slate-haired man's shoulder. Zexion did not deserve to have to suffer through a boring holiday break, in his opinion. The younger man only had bad luck this morning, something that could have happened to anyone (except himself; he was nearly always the luckiest man in any game, including life). He thought quickly for a moment, as a vague idea in his mind surfaced, becoming clearer as he remembered what it was.
"Zexion. Demyx is hosting a Christmas party tomorrow. You should attend." There was a pause as the shorter man considered this. "It officially starts at precisely twelve o'clock, and if you don't enjoy it, you're welcome to leave. You don't need to bring a present," added Luxord in a persuasive tone. Besides, if Zexion came, there'd be one more person to play Holiday Poker with, a game the blond always enjoyed winning. He smiled as Zexion nodded once.
"Perhaps," he said, glancing at the gloved hand still on his shoulder. Luxord removed it, and as he did so, Zexion turned around, and met his blue eyes briefly; he then faced the other way, began to weave his way through the crowded streets to a narrow alleyway, and started his walk home.
"Merry Christmas!" the blond man called out, though without a reply, was not sure whether or not Zexion heard it.
Unlocking his apartment door with one hand (as the other still held the now-lukewarm half-full mug of what was once hot chocolate), Zexion sighed as the cold wind continued to whip against his back. The steel stair landing was cold to the touch, and he feared that should he touch it without gloves on, it would freeze his fingertips to the metal. The distant church bells tolled nine times as the door click-ed and creaked open, and the young man quickly stepped inside. There was a soft meow from inside the dark apartment as he closed the door, and a small, yellow-orange kitten padded up to the slate-haired man.
"Yes, Simba, I'm home. Shoo." Gently, Zexion pushed the cat away with his foot, undid his boots and gloves, set the mug down on the bare counter of his kitchen, and walked over to the ancient sofa sitting in his tiny living-room. With a sigh, he dropped down onto the soft sofa and draped his tired and numb limbs over the cushions and arms, exhausted and cold. Snow on his coat cracked off in clumps and fell to the threadbare carpeted floor, melting and creating small spots of moisture. Simba prowled over and scratched at the water-spots, before bumping his head against Zexion's pale hand and nuzzling it, meowing loudly. The man groaned softly and closed his eyes, wanting to let everything go and just rest, quite content at this moment to ignore the world, and be ignored. Simba bumped his pale hand again, a bit harder this time, and meowed once more. The young man rolled his eyes.
"Go away, Simba. Your next meal is not for another three hours." He swatted it away with a gentle push of three long fingers, but then smiled as Simba dodged them and jumped up onto his abdomen. The little creature had a very warm body, and as he curled up on Zexion's flat stomach, Zexion curled his fingers in his pet's fur and gently stroked it. He could hear Simba's purrs, and that slight fact alone helped cheer him up, at least in a marginal increment.
"Damn you, Saïx," he murmured to the air, and turned his head to the side. Breathing deep, he inhaled the stale scent of alcoholic apple cider and old, worn leather of the secondhand beige sofa. Closing his eyes once more, he fell into a dark, dreamless sleep.
Or, so he did, for a few hours at least, until the doorbell rang loudly, rudely waking him up. Zexion swore in Ivalician under his breath at whoever was at the door for awakening him, groggily getting up as the bell continued to ring three times more.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," he murmured tiredly. His eyes unconsciously flitted to the clock, reading eleven-twenty-five. There was no change in his demeanor upon realizing the time, and the slate-haired young man continued walking toward the door, glaring daggers at it for ringing so many times.
"Yes?" Behind (or in front?) of the door stood a brunet boy, not even out of his teens, holding a parchment envelope with a black seal upon it.
"Hi! Are you Zexion Mirage?" the boy asked, waving the off-white envelope slightly. Zexion raised a single eyebrow, and nodded.
"I am." The boy handed the envelope to him. Zexion took it, still skeptical, and glanced briefly at it before looking back down at the boy.
"My name's Sora. Your letter," he gestured vaguely, "It came in the mail for me... Or with my stuff. I kind of... opened it, but I couldn't read it, so no harm done, right?" He smiled disarmingly, his white teeth (he had very nice teeth, Zexion saw) brilliantly attempting to work its charm upon the slate-haired youth... and failing. Zexion nodded, a tad more chill in his irritated manner than before, and took a step backwards, into his house.
"I suppose not," he said slowly. "Thank you." Beginning to close the door, he almost managed to escape the situation when Sora began talking again.
"What's it say?" he asked curiously. He couldn't read the strange characters or symbols at all, and he was very interested with childish wonder at what the letters said. Zexion shrugged.
"I do not know as of yet, but I shall read it later, when I have the chance. Thank you for your delivery." He forced a smile onto his face for the teen, and nodded once more. "Good day."
Shutting the door, Zexion let out a long sigh as he leaned back against the wood, his hair dragging a bit upwards as he slid down into an ungainly sprawl upon the floor. Simba padded towards him with a soft meow, hungry. Zexion rolled his eyes upward and closed them, clutching the letter in his hand just a bit tighter.
"This just isn't a good morning, Simba..." The cat meowed again, stared at him for a moment, then walked away. There was a long pause, when finally, Zexion began chuckling to himself softly for no reason at all. Forcing himself to stand up, he stretched his stiff muscles and ran a hand through the back of his hair to fix it. He then walked into his small kitchen, dumped out the cold chocolate, and began washing the mug. The envelope he left on the opposite counter, not wanting to dampen it with droplets of water splashing from the sink.
Zexion dried both the mug and his hands with an old, clean rag, and reached for the envelope, already knowing what would be inside. He nodded as his suspicions were confirmed.
It was the memo he never received.
Might as well read it... He unfolded the crinkled paper and quickly skimmed over it, his eyes searching the paper for anything not in Luxord's note. The only noticeable differences were that it was addressed to him, and that it had the scent of what smelled like sea salt clinging to the parchment. With a sigh, he lowered the note and rummaged around in his coat pocket for a few moments.
"Aha." The slate-haired man pulled out his hand, holding a matchbox within, and set the note down for a moment. Opening the box and removing a single stick, he struck the match and caught a flame.
He set fire to the note and envelope, and held it by the very highest corner as he watched it burn, watched the flames hungrily devour the parchment. He tossed them into the sink once it reached high enough to pose a threat to his gloves.
"That's that." Zexion shrugged off his black coat and draped it over the counter, revealing a black, long-sleeved shirt underneath, over a pair of dark jeans. The slate-haired man shivered, and returned to the couch; picking up a book on the way from the table, he sat down and curled up, tucking his knees up close to his chest, and opened the book.
He managed to reach the fifth page when the phone rang. Zexion reached backwards towards what should have been a bedside nightstand, and picked up the phone.
"Zexion Mirage speaking."
"Heeyy, Zexion!" The speaker spoke in a friendly drawl. The young man sighed and slammed the book shut with one hand.
"Yes, Axel? Is this important?"
"'Course it is!" the caller laughed. "I sent a boy over, name's Sora (S-O-R-A, Sora, got it memorized?), to send you the memo from Saïx! Did you get it?"
"Several hours too late, but yes," replied Zexion. He could almost see Axel's casual shrug as he chuckled. The temptation to end the call steadily grew.
"Oh well. Better late than never, eh? Will I see you at the party?"
"Demyx's party?"
"You're supposed to be the smart one. Yes, Demyx's party." Zexion shifted his position, and asked his next question with a touch of caution.
"Why does it matter?" There was a soft snicker on the other end of the line.
"I need to know if I should bring a bucket of water to compliment the mistletoe or not." There was an irate pause on Zexion's end.
"Good-bye, Axel."
"H-hey, wait!" Click. Beeep. The call ended with a single tap from Zexion's finger; he breathed a sigh of relief at the silence.
"Finally." Simba returned to his lap with another meow, now very hungry and slightly annoyed that his human hadn't fed him yet. Zexion allowed his mouth to twist into a slight smile as he ran his fingers through his pet's warm fur. "You've no idea how much I've wanted to do that to Axel, Simba. Serves him right... And speaking of which, I should be serving you lunch, shouldn't I?" Simba blinked. "Yes, I should. C'mon, up. Up, Simba." But Simba stubbornly refused to get up off of his human: he wanted a free ride. Zexion rolled his eyes and picked up his kitten, and carried him into the kitchen as the clock struck twelve. Opening a can of tuna, he set it down on the counter next to Simba.
"Here," he murmured softly, and watched his cat eat for a good few seconds before returning to the couch and flipping to the fifth page, to continue where he left off.
With a sigh, Luxord entered the house and shut the door behind him, shivering from the chill wind. Shaking off the snow from his coat, he removed his gloves with a tug of his teeth and set them down on the small table underneath the front hall mirror. His reflection looked back at him with a mixed expression mimicking his own, and his pale cheeks were now a dusty, warm pink. He smiled at himself, before taking off his coat and hanging it upon the coat rack. Soft Christmas music wafted in the air towards him, as he shivered a bit more.
"Demyx!" he called out. "I'm home!" There was a loud crash from deeper within the house, sounding very similar to the sound of metals and plastics falling on top of each other. A yelp followed soon after, and the sound of Christmas music abruptly stopped.
The door closest to the blond man opened, and a silver head poked out. Aquamarine eyes, set in the sculpted face of a teen boy, stared out at him from beneath the silver bangs. They blinked once at him, and the boy turned to his left and inhaled deeply.
"OI! DEMYX! Luxord's here!"
"I know, dammit!" came the laughter-laced reply. Luxord nodded at the silver-haired youth.
"Good day, Riku," he said conversationally. Riku inclined his head.
"Hey, Luxurd." A dirty-blond haired young man, with short hair styled into a mullet/mohawk, tumbled through the door two doors down from Riku's, and nearly hit the wall. With a sheepish smile, he gave the British man an enthusiastic wave, and bounded over.
"Hi, Lux! You're early." Quickly, he dusted flour and dust off of his paint-splattered apron, grinning at the blond as he did so. "Did you get my red Christmas flower?" Luxord nodded with a laugh.
"Aye, I got you your poinsettia." He gestured with his head at the pot held between his elbow and hip. Riku entered the hall fully, closed the door behind him, and leaned against the wall. He then crossed his arms and smiled.
"It's not really a flower, Dem––" But Demyx cut him off with a frantic waving of his hands.
"I don't care! It looks like a flower, and besides, Luxord knew what I was talking about, right?" The taller man nodded, chuckling. "How's Aerith?"
"She's fine. She mentioned Yuffie and Leon finally getting together... Oh, and she regrets to inform you that she will be unable to attend the party. She offered to help cook, and wishes us all happy holidays." Demyx's face fell slightly.
"Oh. 'S anyone else we know coming?"
"I took the liberty of suggesting that young Zexion come to your party. You don't mind, do you?" Riku and Demyx laughed.
"Pshh, nah. He needs to loosen up, though. This party'll be perfect for him!" Luxord shook his head reprovingly, though the smile kept a shadow upon his face.
"He's just busy, Demyx, and more than likely stressed. Take it easy on him."
"Yeah, yeah. Hey, want some gingersnaps?" Luxord gave a half-nod.
"Please." The three of them left the front hall in which they had been loitering about in, and entered the kitchen through Riku's door.
The kitchen was huge, with white counters laden with recipe books, dirty bowls, and bags of food items; a marble island stood in the middle, to the left of the refrigerator. The stainless-steel sink was filled with dishes and utensils, and an overall Christmas-y scent of cinnamon, apples, mint, and sugar hung in the air.
The plate of gingersnaps lay on the table, along with a thermos of what looked like weak, milky coffee. Demyx gestured at the cookies with his left hand, as he took a few with his right.
"Help yourself," he told Luxord, before biting the head off of one of the gingersnap men.
"Thank you." Taking three, the blond man ate them one by one as Riku crouched down to stare into the lighted oven: what looked like a cake lay inside. The silver-haired teen sighed, a barely audible sound, and stood, turning off the heat.
"Chocolate, Loz, not cinnamon..." he muttered under his breath, giving nothing in particular a smile. Luxord inclined his head as he finished eating the last of his gingersnaps, and brushed off his hands.
"Riku, are your brothers here?" Riku glanced at him, looked around, and then scratched his head.
"Well... they were," he said slowly, "But I think they're out buying cake ingredients and Christmas ornaments... Kadaj wanted more chocolate chips, and Yazoo needed a couple 'o' bags more icing." Luxord nodded with a soft "Ah," and helped himself to a bottle of water. Demyx walked over to a white bowl on the counter as Luxord took a swig, and peered inside.
"I think the dough's got enough chocolate inside already." Riku and Luxord froze. Demyx looked back at them, noticing the silence. "What?" Riku's mouth opened marginally in shock.
"I never thought the day would come where you'd say that there was enough chocolate." The dirty-blond haired man paused for a moment, before sheepishly grinning and cocking his head to the side.
"I guess not, huh?" But he looked inside the bowl again. "...I still think 'Daj doesn't need more." Luxord and Riku began laughing, at both his face and the entire situation; and for the sake and irony of it, Demyx joined in, and the three laughed for a few minutes before a thought struck the dirty-blond's mind.
"Oh! I almost forgot! The glue's drying!" He bolted off through the door next to the oven, and several crashing sounds were heard. Luxord looked at Riku, who shrugged.
"He's been making Christmas ornaments. Last-minute ones, from leftover cookie dough," the teen explained.
"But... it's two days until––" Riku grinned.
"That's not gonna stop him. D'you want to help? Or at least, until Loz and the others get back?" The man smiled.
"Of course." As they left the kitchen to make their way through the jungle of wrapping paper, presents, and decorations that was their living room, Luxord took two more gingersnaps, and followed Riku.
The silver bells hanging on the doorframe tinkled and rang out brightly as Zexion opened the door, entering the warm restaurant-bar; they rang once more as he quietly closed the door, shutting the cold evening out behind him. A skinny girl with short, black hair bounded up to him cheerfully, holding a clipboard and pencil in her hands.
"Good evening! And welcome to Tifa's––" Zexion pulled his hood down a bit lower over his face as the girl frowned and peered closer. "Zexion?"
"Shh." Placing a gloved finger to his lips, he smiled softly as he flipped off his hood, running a hand through his hair to fix any misplaced strands. The girl's face broke into a wide smile, and she rushed to hug him around his middle.
"Uhf."
"Zexion! Ohmigosh, it's been so long! I thought you'd found somewhere else!" she whispered excitedly. Stunned for but a moment, the slate-haired young man hugged her back, patting her a bit awkwardly.
"Sorry," he whispered in reply. "I've... been busy." The girl let go of his middle and stood back, placing her hands on her hips and assuming a scoldful stance.
"You look it! Boy, do you ever need a drink. Make-up wouldn't hurt either... Or maybe not," she amended quickly upon seeing the look on his face. "So, uh, do you want your usual? There's an empty spot on the counter-row. There's only me, Tifa, Xigbar, and Cloud working tonight." The man nodded and stepped aside for two other customers to walk in, shivering slightly as the cold wind hit him.
"Thank you, Yuffie." The girl pushed him lightly over to the chair before greeting the other customers; draping his coat over the back of the stool, he sat down and drummed his fingers on the wood. Presently, the bartender came by and, recognizing him, brought him his usual order. Her long, dark hair was tied back with a red ribbon, and she wore a black vest over her white shirt, and had her black shorts on, despite the weather. Zexion gave her a skeptical look as she set down his drink in front of him.
"Aren't you cold, Tifa?" Tifa glanced down at herself and laughed.
"Not at all. You look it, though. Want some coffee with your Blue Jazz?" Zexion shook his head, not caring that his bangs were a bit more in his eyes than they should have been, and took a sip of his alcoholic beverage. He winced slightly as the familiar tang caught him off guard and attacked his tongue with a sizzling sensation not unlike that of a soda, and swallowed the lukewarm drink. Not having been to the bar for a while, the Blue Jazz gave him a light high immediately, but soon dissipated as his body realized what it was. He started feeling warmer already.
"No, thank you: the combined flavour seems awful," he smiled. Tifa stuck her tongue out at him.
"You know that wasn't what I meant."
"And you know that wasn't very mature." Tifa rolled her eyes at him and shook her head with a sigh, as she wrung out an old rag and began wiping down the counters.
"You had a rough morning, then?" she asked, beginning to wipe out the empty shot glasses of the vacant seat to Zexion's left. He frowned.
"You could tell?" Tifa scoffed, throwing down her rag onto the counter and giving him a grin.
"We've known each other for how long, now? Yes, I can tell. It's a mother's instinct!" Zexion paused as he took another sip of his drink.
"Tifa... we're the same age. Do you realize how weird––?" Tifa rubbed the back of her head embarrassedly.
"Yes, well... I'm the adoptive mother of two. I've also known you for years. I can tell if you've had a bad day." Zexion nodded in an absentminded manner as Tifa took her rag and continued cleaning the shot glasses. "So. Wanna tell me what's up?" The slate-haired man laughed as he downed the rest of his drink in one swig and asked for another.
"Got held up this morning," he said a bit thickly, but managed to fight the drunkenness down. "For two hours in the snow, Saïx held me up." Tifa winced.
"Did he show?" Zexion sighed and shook his head. The old, warm buzzing feeling was beginning to invade his brain, and he silently welcomed it.
"Luxord did. All the, uh, errands are suspended. So then some child comes to my house to hand me the memo hours too late, waking me up... It just wasn't a good day," he ended with a soft laugh. Tifa bit her lip.
"Well... I dunno about your errands, but cheer up! Naminé's here, and so's Cloud, and Lexaeus. Oh! And I heard Demyx is having a party tomorrow," she added slyly. "He told me. He really wants you to come, you know, but since he didn't know where you lived, or what your phone number was, he asked me to pass on the message to you since, apparently, Axel told him that you used to frequent here... Why don't you go?" Zexion shot her and her wink a look, before taking another sip of his drink.
"I––" But a sudden loud bout of laughter and cheer erupting from one of the darker corners interrupted him: a blonde woman, with Yuffie next to her, and a rust-haired giant were playing a drinking game, and Yuffie had her head down on the table, face in her bowl of popcorn. Tifa rolled her eyes.
"Oh, for the love of Moogles, that girl––!" But she couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Yuffie face-down in her popcorn. "That's coming out of her pay tonight." With a sigh, she set down a plate of gingerbread men in front of her friend. "Here. Have a snack. All that alcohol on an empty stomach's gonna kill you." Setting her rag down again, she hurried down the bar to where Yuffie was, not wanting her to squander her savings over a game.
"I haven't had enough to even warrant a hangover yet, Tifa," Zexion protested halfheartedly after her, but all the same, smiled his thanks as he took one of the cookies. Examining it for a moment (as he was prone to doing; ever observant, he studied and took note of everything, just in case and out of habit), he stared at the purple gumdrop buttons before picking them off, folding them inside a napkin, and biting the head off of the cookie. The icing was thin, and not too sweet; exactly the way he liked it. He ate it slowly, savouring the homemade taste of the gingerbread, and eventually began stacking the gumdrops in a tower out boredom. It reminded him of when he used to build gingerbread houses, when he was a very young child, but he pushed the thoughts out of his head. He didn't need to bring back up memories such as those if his only reason was nostalgia.
"Wotcher, Zex. You've been staring at that gumdrop for the past three minutes. Does it have one less gram of sugar than the rest? Or is it poisoned?" Zexion looked up, startled, as a soft male voice teased him. A tall blond man, with a blue turtleneck and black trousers, grinned at him from across the counter. The man stole a cookie from the slate-haired young man's plate as Zexion smirked.
"Wotcher?" The blond shrugged.
"Wanted to see if you were drunk enough to notice." The younger man laughed softly as he swallowed the last of his Blue Jazz.
"And a simple 'hello' wouldn't have sufficed, Cloud?" Cloud shook his head as he handed his friend another Blue Jazz, noticing how his tongue was tinted a very, very slight blue. He stifled a laugh.
"Nope. Long time, no see."
"I agree. How have you been?" There was another loud cheer from the back table, and the clinking of munny could clearly be heard.
"Alright, I guess. Fenrir's been fixed now, and the business is doing well." Cloud then frowned sympathetically. "I heard about your Peeping Tom. Sorry about your stand-up today." Zexion began snapping off the limbs of another gingerbread man, choosing to ignore the last two sentences.
"Fenrir was broken?" Cloud nodded, his fair spikes bouncing slightly.
"Yeah. A couple kids got into it, and jammed the gears by accident––" He broke off as he saw Tifa approach with Yuffie slung over her back.
"Hey, boys," she said tiredly. "Cloud, could you take Yuffie upstairs, please? I don't know what she didn't drink, she's so KO-ed. I don't know how she convinced Larxene she was of age, either..." Cloud nodded and gave her a soft peck on the cheek and a pat on the shoulder as he took Yuffie and left, giving Zexion a final salute before he disappeared up the stairs. Zexion returned it, broken gingerbread man arm in hand, and glanced back at Tifa.
"You should sit," he commented softly. Tifa nodded, holding a hand up to her forehead.
"I'll be fine. I just need some black liquor, and I'll be fine. Watch the bar for me 'til I get back? I'm going outside for a breather." Zexion nodded and took another sip of his drink as he watched Tifa leave, wondering how on Gaia she could be fine with shorts on in the freezing, snowy air outside.
Five minutes passed relatively quickly, and when Tifa returned, she seemed completely refreshed, cheerful again and looking absolutely sober. It was a bit frightening; but she thanked him for looking after her bar and resumed serving drinks.
"Hey. Naminé's coming your way," she let slip quietly as she helped Xigbar, a tall man with one eye and a grey/black striped ponytail, serve a large set of meals to a group of ten. Zexion nodded and turned in his chair to greet the shy girl with a soft smile.
Being quite young, only barely eighteen, she was, by all accounts, illegally inside the bar, but being good friends with Tifa, and being Cloud's younger sister, she was allowed in on two conditions. One, she was not to drink any alcoholic beverage, or accept any drink from anyone she did not know for more than a day, and two, she was not to leave the bar with anyone, and was to stay within sight at all times. Those being reasonable conditions, Naminé stayed in the bar as she pleased, but t was to mostly to watch and study people, learning their movements and motions so that she could better draw them.
"Good evening," she said shyly. It was a little-known fact, but Naminé had a slight soft spot for the slate-haired man; being as shy as she was, she always strove to keep it a secret, and it was cute to those who knew to watch. Zexion nodded.
"Good evening," he replied back. Naminé shrugged a bit awkwardly, and settled for sitting in the seat next to Zexion, receiving a Scarlet Tango virgin punch from Tifa.
"Um... How are you?"
"Attempting to get drunk. How are you?" Naminé giggled nervously.
"I'm good, thanks. I've been drawing more lately... Oh, and I'm excited for the party Demyx is to be hosting tomorrow. Are you? Cloud said I could attend, if I wanted..."
"I suppose..." The slate-haired man said indifferently before taking another sip of his Blue Jazz. He could feel a slight tingling at the back of his throat, and twisted his lips into a shadow of a frown as he noticed the temperature of his drink rising a bit. He reached for the bucket of ice on the counter.
"You're not going?" asked the girl in surprise. Zexion merely shrugged, dropping a few ice cubes into his drink.
"Maybe." The solid water clinked as it hit the sides of the glass. The two of them smiled for no reason at all at the tiny sound.
"I will." Naminé swirled the contents of her punch with her straw, sucking up some chunks of fruit once the drink was sufficiently mixed. "Half the neighborhood's been invited, and the other half's showing up anyway. It should be fun." Zexion smirked teasingly.
"I think you're just going so you can have more models for your drawings." Naminé blushed at his statement, not caring to admit how close to the mark he had hit.
"I-I was planning to enjoy the party a-as well, you know." Zexion laughed softly, giving his Blue Jazz the wry smile meant for Naminé, and swallowed the rest of his drink.
"Of course." Setting the shot glass down with a dull thud, he stood up and handed Tifa the munny he owed her, plus a large tip. Tifa, surprised at the amount of money he had given her, tried to give some back, but he closed her hand and refused it.
"Keep it." He glanced down at Naminé, and gave her a two-fingered salute. "Have fun at the party. Good night, Naminé, Tifa." Taking his coat, he brushed it off before shrugging it on, and left without another word, turning right as the door closed behind him. Naminé blushed slightly, and sighed.
"Good night..." Cloud walked over to Tifa and leaned on the counter, staring at the door just like Naminé.
"He left, then? Will he be alright, walking home in the cold?" Tifa nodded.
"He's not that drunk, and he's tougher than you think," she said with a smile. Cloud snickered behind his hand, but managed to disguise it with a cough.
"If you say so..."
Though it was the wintery season of cheer and goodwill, Zexion felt anything but as he trudged home through the snowdrifts. The cold wind whipped across his face, even with his hood up, and the damp chill was slowly bringing his mind back to sobriety. The buzz from the Blue Jazz was fading away, almost as the same pace as the slowing snowfall.
He wasn't upset. Just indifferent now, and focused only on warmth and returning home, where he would only have to take a warm shower and flop face-down onto his sofa, and fall asleep. He was thankful that he had decided to return Aerith's mug earlier, before he stopped by the bar.
He slipped slightly, and unfolded his arms to maintain his balance, leaving him vulnerable to the cold. The roads were slippery, and the sidewalks narrow. The only reason he was walking on the street was because strangely, there were no cars running. The pale orange lights from the street-lamps bathed the snow in a tangerine glow, but Zexion paid it no mind as he continued walking home.
"Hahaha, no wait! Use the chocolate––CHOCOLATE, Yazoo! Not vanilla! ...right there!"
"Ooh, and how about we add some candies right along here, Loz? I think it would look lovely with our gingerbread house!"
Faint voices, soft and yet distinct, reached the trained ears of the young Mirage, and he paused, looking around for the source. He found it, inside the warm, lighted window of a large white house: Demyx's house. He felt a little surprised at himself for not realizing what street he was on, and for not recognizing the house immediately. Unconsciously, his feet began moving forward of their own accord, and he neared the window within seconds. He looked inside curiously, with perhaps more than wonder motivating him; perhaps nostalgia moved his feet towards the wrong house.
Through the frosted window, he saw Aerith Gainsborough, from the flower shop, mixing dough in a bowl with one of Riku's three older brothers; Kadaj, Zexion thought his name was. Aerith was also helping Loz, the oldest brother, build a gingerbread house when she wasn't mixing. Yazoo and Riku were icing a cake, and were making a mess of themselves, but laughing while they did so. Demyx was sitting in the corner, by the lighted advent wreath, and was quietly strumming his sitar; he looked to be humming to himself. Zexion felt a pang of emotion, bittersweet and familiar, hit him in his chest, as he remembered the Christmases he had spent with his family long ago. His mind subconsciously began replacing the faces of the people there with the people from his past.
There would be his mother, a strong and kind woman, kneading dough with her hands, and helping him cut out gingerbread men. There, his older sister Fuujin would be playing the piano, or maybe her harp. She would have replaced her normal eyepatch with one holiday-themed, perhaps a felt Christmas bauble, or a cloth-patch paopu star. His father would be sitting in his chair, smoking his pipe, and the rich scent of burning vanilla would gently waft in with the cinnamon-gingerbread and minty smell from the kitchen. The cake would be in the oven, baking slowly, and the tree would be glittering with lights and ornaments, much like the one inside Demyx's house.
Zexion Mirage stood there, looking through the window not at the "family" inside, but at his own family from before, and smiled softly, a genuine smile, for several long minutes, before a sudden gust of wind knocked him out of his thoughts and back into reality. He shook his head quickly to clear the thoughts away.
What does it matter? Three years and some months later, the fire would burn down the house, the tree, the ornaments, and the lives of the family inside, only sparing the youngest child from its infernic wrath. He only wished that the fire would have burned away the memories as well.
He heaved a great sigh, and took a few steps back from the window, gulping down breaths of frigid air to help him push down and bury his emotions, or at the very least, his memories. He couldn't change the past. He knew that.
But that didn't mean he had to go through and relive it over and over again, either.
He sighed again, and looked back through the window. The expressions on everyone's faces seemed so happy, so content. He thought for a long moment, before finally deciding his RSVP.
"I'll go to your party, Demyx; but it's only to appease my nostalgic conscience, and... and maybe relive the happiness and love of Christmas that I've missed all these years. I hope you're happy, Naminé, Luxord," he murmured to the frozen air, allowing himself a thin smile. He expected no reply, and no reply came, so with one final look and a kick of the snow, Zexion turned around and resumed walking home.
~*~*~Interlude~*~*~
The morning of Saturday, December 24th, Christmas Eve, was greeted with crystalline icicles melting drip by drip onto the snowy pavement of Traverse Town, frozen dew decorating the fallen leaves, and a bright sunrise steadily climbing the sky, bathing everything in sight a warm, golden light.
Inside his cheap apartment in the Third District, Zexion Mirage, a young intellectual in his mid-twenties with messy, layered slate-bluish hair, slowly blinked his eyes open, wincing as the light from the window attacked his position on the secondhand sofa. Seconds passed as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight, and eventually, he was able to open them without flinching. He lay draped on the old beige couch, with only a threadbare light blue blanket to cover him; he stared out of the window, at the dripping icicles, and inhaled the stale scent of the sofa, of old leather and alcoholic apple cider.
"It's Christmas Eve..." he murmured to the air. Nothing replied, save for his orange-furred kitten, Simba, who lay curled up in a tight ball on his red pillow, and meowed softly at the young man's tired, emotionless words.
Groaning, Zexion rolled over and crashed onto the floor, and just stopping short of the low coffee table so as to not hit his head: a procedure that always left him faint bruises, but woke him up and, most importantly, kept him awake the whole day. Getting up and stretching his stiff muscles, he folded up his blanket and walked towards the bathroom to wash up for the day.
The bathroom was right across the hall from the single bedroom the cramped apartment housed, and was quite small. Zexion walked in, stumbling into a wall only once, and flipped on the light. Despite the entire place being poor, cheap, and small, he always kept it in neat and clean condition; it gave the atmosphere a purer feeling, and it was quite convenient to not be tripping over strewn about things in search for other items.
The reflection in the mirror, though, not matter how clean, did not reflect a nice image. The young man had dark bags beneath his eyes, and looked much too thin for the grey t-shirt he wore as the top half of his night clothes––the cotton seemed to just hang off of his thin frame. He was short as well; not too short to be considered below his range, but short enough to be mistaken as being a few years younger than his actual age.
But it was no matter. The young man went through the same ritual every morning, to the point that it was almost clockwork how precise it was. After washing himself off, brushing his teeth, and changing into his day clothes, he began to work on his hair.
First, he reached for the white comb set out on the marble counter, and ran it several times through his slate-blue tresses. There would be a few tangles here and there, and he would work them out gently, very gently, so as to not cause him pain. Then, he would use the brush, to smooth out the hair, flattening it with water should static electricity build up. Finally, with quick, precise hand motions and a few shoots of hairspray, his hair would look perfect, a better version of his natural hairstyle. He took a good look at the mirror once more.
Within minutes, he went from a groggy-looking unkempt youth, to a young man with an intellectual air of charisma, and sophistication. The way he held himself was different, straighter and prouder, with better posture. His face had the faintest ghost of a smirk upon it, as though he knew some strange, fascinating secret that no one else did. The new young man reflected in the mirror better befitted his job as an agent of the secret, underground Organization XIII.
Satisfied with his appearance, he began walking out of the bathroom when the clock-tower bells outside tolled loudly to announce the time: half past six. The sound echoed, albeit slightly quieter, within his apartment, causing him to jump in sudden surprise. The moment he collected himself back together (mere milliseconds), he groaned and hit his palm against his forehead. Though the bells rang at the same time every morning, right as he left the bathroom, it still caught him off-guard and would startle him; but he didn't mind. Someday he'd get over it, but for now, it was time for breakfast, the most important (and sometimes the only decent) meal of the day for him.
Zexion walked into the kitchen and opened up the small refrigerator, grimacing as he beheld what was inside: a wilting ball of lettuce, some leftover rice, plastic-wrapped slices of microwave ham and cheese, stacks of labeled cans, assorted fruits nearing their peak ripeness, and a carton of milk. The groceries were a sad, mismatched set of food items stuffed orderly into the fridge, and almost laughable. Withdrawing the milk from the icebox with a sigh, the slate-haired young man closed the door and opened instead a cupboard, taking out a bowl, a spoon, and a box of cereal. He fixed his breakfast, adding some chopped strawberries and bananas into his Panacea-O's (which happened to be a great source of his daily recommended amount of vitamins and minerals), and sat down at the stool beside the counter. He then stared grimly at his breakfast, before cracking a wry smile.
"Bon appetit," he murmured, scooping up a bite and then proceeding to consume his morning meal. He was three-fourths done with it when Simba officially awakened, and padded his way to the kitchen.
"Mreow?" Zexion glanced at his pet offhandedly and brought the porcelain bowl to his lips, drinking the rest of the milk and what was left of the cereal in one go; standing up and placing the bowl in the sink, he returned to the icebox and took out one of the cans, labeled Breakfast. Opening it (and ignoring the strong smell of mackerel invading the air), he set it down on the floor, next to an empty plate. He filled the plate with clean water for Simba, and ruffled his kitten's fur as he walked over to the bedroom, planning on ignoring the bowl in the sink until just before he would leave.
The bedroom was not really a bedroom, for it had no bed. The room, then, should have instead been called an office, except for the simple fact that it housed no desk. Library, then, might have better befitted it: Each wall was lined with bookshelves, filled with tomes and novels, and with volumes rare and common alike placed neatly into each cubby, in no particular order. In the corner stood a comfortable, overstuffed red armchair, with next to it a small table laden with untitled writings, more books, a laptop, a black primer, and assorted writing utensils, and a wastebasket on the other side, filled with wrappers and balled-up scraps of paper.
Zexion entered the room and skimmed through the books on the opposite wall, searching through the titles just below eye-level.
"Red Nocturne... Buried Secrets... Ramses of Egypt... Madman's Vita, Mystic Album... Revolting Scrapbook... Aha," he said quietly with a shy grin. "Book of Retribution." Pulling the book out from between the two other novels, Zexion walked over to the armchair and plopped down, wincing but once and pulling out another novel, Otherworldly Tales, out from behind him. He had nearly three hours of time to kill. He'd read for about ten, fifteen minutes or so, then brush his teeth again and take care of Simba; after that, he'd come back, maybe write a report or two on his recon work, then continue reading.
It sounded like a good plan. Snuggling up a bit tighter in the chair, Zexion pulled his legs up, cracked open his book, and began to read.
Demyx sighed as he peered out the window at the cars and people showing up, one by one. He had sent out a mass text saying that his Christmas bash was starting not at noon, but at nine: he had gotten impatient, and Yazoo was afraid of the cake being eaten or spoiled before the party. He counted exactly twenty-six presents being carried by various people, and none of them were being held by Zexion. Was he even coming?
"Hey, Lux," he called out from the kitchen. "Is everything ready?" His Christmas bash was to be the best one yet, and he wanted absolutely everything to be perfect for the year's final whole celebration (as he reckoned New Year's as being split between December's 31st and the head of January, and he knew of no one's birthday being after Christmas). A few rusting sounds later, Luxord's voice replied cheerfully.
"Aye! Everything's ready. It's nine on the dot. Shall we let them in?" Demyx turned around to see Roxas, another member of the Organization, with spiked golden hair and brilliant blue eyes, coming up behind him. The fair-haired fifteen-year-old nodded with a grin, and jerked his head towards the front hall, motioning for Demyx to follow him. The dirty-blond sitarist swallowed down his irrational nervousness and smiled back.
"Yeah, let 'em in!" he called out as he entered the front hall, as did Riku from the living room. The door burst open as soon as Luxord unlocked it, and two nearly identical, red-haired, and lanky young men immediately stepped in. One had long, spiked hair and twin purple tattoos of inverted teardrops on his face, while the other wore his hair, still spiked, but in a long ponytail.
"Yo." The ponytailed man gave the dirty-blond a two-fingered salute and a smirk to boot as he entered.
"Hey, Demyx!" His younger brother rushed in and gave Demyx a brief hug, before initiating their secret handshake. Demyx's grin widened and he fist-bumped the redhead enthusiastically.
"Axel! Reno! You made it!" He laughed a bit, and waved them in. "Come in, come in, glad you could come!"
"Thanks, yo." The taller brother handed Roxas a neatly wrapped box, with C00KIES scrawled across the top in permanent marker. "They're sugar." Roxas smiled politely and accepted the gift, handing it to Riku, when a new voice called out.
"W-who is this?" asked Kadaj curiously as he and his brothers descended the stairs to the door and the two redheads came into view, but his voice was laced with the slightest tinge of fear. Demyx opened his mouth to reply when the redheads moved forward and introduced themselves.
"The name's Axel. Get it memorized," said the one with purple tattoos, tapping his head and smirking. The ponytailed man grinned.
"I'm Reno, yo." He winked at the three, before looking back and finally seeing Luxord, who was busy greeting in more guests. Yazoo stared at Demyx and Riku as Reno fist-bumped the blond, his mouth slightly open in shock.
"Y-you brought Reno?"
"Yep!" Axel smiled cheerfully, with an almost undetectable trace of malice, at the second brother, as he gave Roxas their own secret handshake as well. Yazoo paled marginally at Reno's friendly smirk, as did Kadaj, and quietly dashed into the kitchen, taking Loz and Kadaj by the wrists with him and shutting the door. Riku bit his lower lip, but whether to keep from laughing or because the two notorious twins were so near, even he didn't know, but all the same, he led them into the now-cleaned living room and offered them a plate of gingersnaps.
Demyx watched the trio leave, rolling his eyes when Axel gave Roxas a brief hug as well, and turned back to face the door, and began greeting the other guests and accepting their gifts, taking care that the steadily growing mountain of presents blocking entry into the kitchen would not fall over.
"Yes, thank you... Oh, hi! I'm glad you could come! Wow... Yeah, I've heard. Get inside and warm yourself, there's plenty of cookies and candy in the living room... Oh, thanks! Heyy, long time no see!" Kept busy by the stream of guests and kept confident by the laughter shaking his body, Demyx almost forgot that he was even searching for his young partner in the first place. There came Yuffie and Leon, together as a couple, with Yuffie grinning widely and greeting them a "Happy, merry Hallow-Easter!" (as she had little idea of what their culture's holidays were, and had accidentally gotten them mixed up); Marluxia and Larxene, two more members of the Organization, but a florist and electrician happily dating to everyone else; Xigbar arrived with a golf bag full of oversized candy canes and a hug for Demyx; Olette, Hayner, and Pence arrived per suggestion of Roxas, and were given sodas by Luxord, seeing as they were underage by six years. Ariel and Eric Prince came after, smiling cheerfully at the hosts and thanking them for the invitation, causing Riku to wonder which man, Eric or Luxord, could act more sophisticated. Mr and Mrs Mouse from two blocks away arrived, insisting that Roxas address them by their first names as "Mickey" and "Minnie", and presenting new trains for the track running underneath the tree to Demyx, much to the two blonds' joy.
Soon after, Sora and Kairi arrived, not-quite-literally dragging along Xion behind them. Sora greeted his best friend Riku with a high-five, and Demyx laughed as the sable-haired girl hid behind her two friends to avoid Riku's glance. It was an odd way of reacting to meeting her crush, but what did Demyx know? He wasn't a girl. He was snapped out of his thoughts when Ventus, Roxas's older brother, escorted in Naminé, followed closely by his best friends Aqua and Terra, with Aqua's hand clasped within that of Zack Fair's, a tall young man who looked as though he could be Xion's brother, but wasn't.
The singers Demyx had hired for the party, The Gullwings, somersaulted into the house gracefully, with their own music playing as background as Yuna, Rikku, and Paine vaulted into the living room. Paine's date, Sora's older brother Vanitas, entered after them, carrying Rikku's music player and speakers. Applause could be heard from the front door as the four entered the main party room, and Roxas gave Riku a knowing look, receiving a smug shrug in return. Sephiroth, Riku's father, walking through the door quickly wiped away the smug expression on his son's face, as he came in with Eraqus at the end of the line as the two chaperons Luxord had called, to make sure that nobody underage "accidentally" drank the eggnog (or slightly eggnog-flavoured rum in this case), wine, or champagne, and that any guest who had been holiday-spirited enough to drink themselves to oblivion (or close to it) behaved themselves and found the toilet if and when they needed.
It might have been a possibly icky, boring, and busy job, but the two men were up for it, and besides, Luxord was paying handsomely, not to mention that he would also be playing Holiday Poker, a favourite game of theirs.
Demyx breathed a great sigh as at last he and Luxord closed the door, as Riku and Roxas had left to go hang out with their friends, and leaned against the wall, rubbing his cheeks a touch painfully. He hadn't known that smiling so much could hurt this much, mostly because he smiled so often; but he hadn't wanted to be rude to the long line of people entering his house, especially to the strangers, so he smiled and smiled. He took off his green Santa hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, as did Luxord, except that his hat was red.
"Luxord?" he asked, the slightest beginnings of a grin back on his face. The blond man glanced over at him, rubbing the sides of his own mouth.
"Aye?" Rock 'n' roll Christmas music flooded the halls as The Gullwings began to play. Demyx shook his head with a laughing sigh.
"I'm never going to work for Disney, if forced smiling this much feels like it does." Luxord merely chuckled, and began helping the sitarist transfer the presents to underneath the tree, so that Loz, Yazoo, and Kadaj might come out through that door.
The entire plan was ridiculous. Actually, the entire idea was ridiculous as well. Zexion sighed as he approached the large house, eyes almost widening at the amount of cars parked on the curb, their owners all guests of the party. He recognized a little over half of them, but that did him little good: he was about to join Demyx's Christmas party at exactly ten o'clock, having received a phone call from Luxord earlier, and was already having second thoughts, without even the help of annoying music or alcohol.
His plan seemed a bit rude any way he sliced it. Not rude in an unnoticeable way, but rude in an ignorable, understandable way. Still, only attending to shut his conscience up and feel the warmth of love and Christmas once more, and then leaving after an hour or so, didn't seem to be too polite. Of course, he did bring a present for Demyx, in thanks for hosting the party: a deluxe box of Wonderland chocolates he had bought from Crimson Pranksters, Demyx's favourite candy shop; but it was still no excuse. Zexion sighed: he supposed he'd stay the whole time. He rang the doorbell, and as soon as his finger broke contact with the small, black button, the door burst open, and there in the doorway stood a tall, lean, dirty-blond haired young man.
"Zexion?" His voice was saturated with happy surprise and disbelief. He looked like... well, a young child at Christmas, if his puppy-dog emerald eyes were anything to go by. Zexion handed the box, wrapped in light blue wrapping paper, to the man.
"Merry Christmas Eve, Demyx," he said with the faintest traces of a smile. Demyx smiled back, just as he had expected. What he hadn't expected was the sudden tackle he received next, nearly knocking him over. A hug. A huge, Demyx-style bear hug, to be precise.
"You came! Oh, this is awesome! Come on! I didn't think you'd come, but late's better than never! Zexion, come on! The party's already started, you have to see the decorations!" With a laugh and a tug on the wrist, Demyx pulled Zexion into the house and took him on a tour of his indoor Winter Wonderland. There were a great many ornaments and decorations inside: the front hall alone looked as though it came from an enchanted, frozen castle. The linoleum floor was gleaming, freshly waxed; mirrors were hung above the small tables pushed up against the walls, large, rectangular, and with gilded, ornate frames; wreaths and twisted cotton, dotted with silver glitter to resemble snow, were hung up high, and all around there was a pleasant scent of cinnamon apples wafting through the air. Zexion just had enough time to look around in awe, and glimpse the surprised faces of Riku's three older brothers poking out from the kitchen door, before Demyx showed him into the living room.
Zexion shut his eyes tightly for a few seconds: the main party room was crowded with people, and at the center of attention were two notorious redhead brothers. Zexion attempted to look very inconspicuous, so as to avoid the gaze of Axel and Reno, but failed immediately as Demyx loudly and happily introduced him to the rest of his guests.
"Hey! It's Zex! Glad you could make it!" called out Axel, waving his hand obnoxiously. "I brought the water bucket, just for you! It's right over the mistletoe!" Zexion sighed, ignoring the scattered laughter around, and plastered a fake smile on his face.
"Of course! I wouldn't miss the party for the world," he replied, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice. Axel snorted and turned back to his audience, as he resumed playing with fire and performing small tricks for the guests. Demyx grinned and patted Zexion's shoulder.
"Right, well, Riku's calling me, so the food's over there, the eggnog's over there, the non-alcoholic drinks are right there by Sephiroth, and oh! Thanks for the present!" He hugged Zexion again, not quite so tightly this time, and excitedly relieved the Schemer's hands of the gift. Disappearing amongst the crowd, he left him feeling a bit out of place, but it didn't matter. There were a few people here who he was comfortable talking with, so he wouldn't be completely alienated at the party. He might as well enjoy himself while he was here.
The slate-haired young man strode over to the refreshments table by the set of couches and armchairs surrounding the largest Christmas tree, and poured himself a cup of Red Nocturne, a spiked apple cider. As he sipped it quietly, watching the crowd half-disinterestedly, the older of the two red-haired brothers approached him with a friendly wave.
"Yo." He poured himself a glass of red wine and took a gingersnap from one of the snack plates, before facing the shorter man again. "The name's Reno." Zexion nodded politely, not seeing the need to re-introduce himself (thanks to Demyx), and stood awkwardly, but hiding his discomfort.
"Are you enjoying this party?" he asked, attempting to fill the silence between them, silence only punctuated by the soft munching of the gingersnap. Reno shrugged.
"Yeah, it's cool. You?" Zexion scoffed, thought not without a smile, and shook his head.
"I don't know yet. It's a bit crowded for me, and a little loud." Reno laughed at this, and patted the younger one's shoulder.
"You'll be fine." There was another pause as the redhead took another gingersnap from the plate, and watched Xigbar and Ventus arm-wrestle, while a small group of people cheered them on (with Yuffie notably being the loudest). He then cast a sideways glance at the bored-looking Schemer. "You're, uh, nineteen this year?" he asked, guessing his age for no reason at all, and raising an eyebrow at the beverage the other was drinking. Zexion laughed briefly.
"Twenty-two," he replied, rolling his eyes. He may have been short, but he was clearly much more mature than that. Of course, this man being Axel's brother, he decided to let him slide for this one time only. It wasn't his fault for not knowing, nor was it for being misinformed by cause of Axel on his age. Reno scratched the back of his head in slight embarrassment, grinning sheepishly.
"Oh, uh, that's––"
"WHOA, whoa, hey!" Reno and Zexion whirled around at the sudden yells, eyes widening upon registering what exactly they were seeing.
Axel had set one of the smaller Christmas trees on fire.
"Shiiit, yo!..." Reno swore, before quickly thrusting his glass into Zexion's pale hands. "Here, hold this." Accepting the glass (and not wanting the wine to spill onto his black turtleneck), Zexion watched with slight interest as Axel, Reno, Riku, and Leon began spraying the Christmas tree with a fire extinguisher; Demyx and Luxord soon joined the fray, with the mullethawked man throwing himself down to save the train and train tracks underneath.
The entire scene was so comical, Zexion couldn't help but laugh. It didn't help that the foam now looked like snow on the tree. Demyx noticed Zexion's laugh and beamed widely upon getting up off of the floor. He dumped his precious train and tracks into the arms of Vanitas nearby, and bounded over to where the slate-haired Schemer stood.
"You laughed!" Zexion rolled his eyes.
"You sound surprised." He set Reno's drink down upon the white-covered table, and took a sip of his own beverage. Demyx shrugged.
"Well, yeah. Normally you're always stoic, silent, stuck-up, and boring." Zexion stuck his tongue out at Demyx, though not offended by the sitarist's words.
"And normally, you're always cheerful, lazy, silly, and a bit annoying." Demyx opened his mouth to retort, but Vanitas interrupted him.
"D'you want to put your toys back in the toybox?" he asked with a hint of a sneer. His first impression of Vanitas left Zexion torn between liking him and being wary of him. He settled for neutrality as Demyx and Vanitas walked away, with the dirty-blond loudly insisting that no, his trains weren't toys, they were a limited edition collector's set.
Finishing his drink, Zexion left the refreshments table, feeling a bit less shy and reserved, and began mingling with the crowd. He watched Yuna, Rikku, and Paine sing and dance for a bit, performing several well-known Christmas songs with their own twist, and chatted with Luxord for a while before he wandered off to the front hall once more, to see exactly how much glitter was left on his face from the Gullwings' confetti.
Much to his surprise, standing by the mirror was Naminé, the only other person in the hall. She stood alone in front of the mirror closest to the front door, by the overhung coat rack, and was clutching a small star-shaped plushie to her chest.
"Naminé?" The blonde girl jumped, startled, and blushed a little upon seeing Zexion there, curiously wondering what she was doing. Thoughts raced through her head, but she pushed them aside and smiled at him.
"Hey," she said softly. Zexion walked over to her, eyebrows slightly furrowed.
"Are you feeling alright? Your cheeks... they look a little pink..." Naminé quickly shook her head, a bit mortified that Zexion had noticed she was blushing.
"I'm fine! So, um, are you enjoying the party?" Zexion chuckled. The alcohol was working.
"You're the second person that's asked me that today, and it's not even one o'clock." Naminé laughed nervously.
"Oh," was all she said. She fidgeted slightly, and looked back at the mirror, passively examining her reflection. The holly bow in her hair looked nice against her pale blonde tresses, and matched the white, shimmery dress she was wearing. The blush on her face was fading away, and she could see Zexion walk up behind her and smile in the mirror.
"You look nice," he said. The scenario reminded him of when Fuujin (Fuu hated it when anyone called her by her full name, except for her little brother, only because he was "so cute") was leaving to go to a dance party with her best friend, only this time, he was taller, and they were already at the party. Naminé smiled and tilted her head.
"Thank you." She turned around to face him, when a trail of silver tinsel caught her eye. Looking up, she saw a wreath on the ceiling, decorated with the plastic icicles, and dangling a bit of mistletoe just above them. Zexion looked up as well.
"Mistletoe," he commented blankly. Naminé blushed again, a bit darker this time. Her crush looked back at her, and raised an eyebrow. "Er..."
"We should probably get out from under it," Naminé said quickly, taking a half-step back. "It's probably infested with Icy Cubes––" But then, almost too fast for her mind to register, Zexion tilted her head up with a few fingers and gently pressed his lips upon hers.
All too quickly, the chaste kiss was over, and Naminé could only blush mutely as Zexion gave her a half-smile and walked away, but not before saying softly, "Merry Christmas, Naminé." He re-entered the living room and the crowd within, leaving her quite alone once more. She turned, looked into the mirror, and in a moment of uncharacteristic-ness, punched the air happily, mouthing Yes! to herself. Zexion had kissed her, and that simple action alone made her Christmas.
In the kitchen, Axel, Luxord, Kadaj, Loz, and Demyx were stirring a large pot of hot chocolate and chatting (or, more accurately, Luxord, Kadaj, and Loz were stirring the hot chocolate, while Axel and Demyx chatted), when Reno poked his head into the room and whispered something in Axel's ear. The two redheads grinned identical smirks, and Reno disappeared back into the living room.
"Hey, Demyx, guess what," Axel said conversationally, as Demyx took a sip of his eggnog. "Zexion just kissed Naminé underneath the mistletoe. Jealous?" Demyx continued to sip quietly before smirking at Axel.
"Pfft. You wish. Not in the least." Axel rolled his eyes in disbelief. "You know I don't roll that way!"
"Right." But the redhead grinned at his best friend and continued to watch the three stir the cocoa. "I can't believe you placed mistletoe in more than one place. Now I won't get to douse his hair with the water." Demyx merely snorted into his eggnog, and declined to comment.
Christmas parties were supposed to be fun, or so Zexion remembered them in his mind. You would eat cake, cookies, play games, and receive presents from random people in a gift switch.
This party was quite unlike anything he'd been to before, and so far, he couldn't really describe it as "fun".
Although... seeing Naminé's expression after the kiss was a bit cute. And it did feel a bit nice to make her happy for Christmas...
At any rate, he was glad he thought ahead far enough to bring with him his Book of Retribution. It would make for a nice way to pass the time. Zexion made his way over to the couches by the large Christmas tree, and sat down on the soft cushions. Cracking open his book, he smiled as reality slowly dissolved into the world of Retribution, and read for what seemed like hours when a sudden finger poked his shoulder thrice in quick succession.
"What're you reading for, when you're at a party?" Zexion, startled, looked up. It was Riku, sucking on the straw of a paopu fruit juice box, and tilting his head curiously at the Schemer. He shrugged.
"I like reading..." Riku nodded and sucked a bit louder for a moment, quickly skimming the pages.
"What's it called?" Zexion sighed.
"The Dummy's Guide to Minding One's Own Business," he answered in a bored voice, barely suppressing a half-smile. Riku rolled his eyes and jumped over the couch, neatly landing on the cushion beside the young Mirage.
"Ha-ha, Zexion," he said sarcastically. "There's no need to be so snarky."
"So sorry, Riku, but there's no need to be so nosy, either," retorted the Schemer. The silveret sighed and pushed up the book so that he could get a good look at the title, purposefully shoving the pages into Zexion's face as a playful, silent revenge.
"Book of Retribution? Isn't that the bestseller that––" Zexion quickly clamped a hand over Riku's mouth.
"Yes, it is. Don't advertise it to the world, now." Riku was tempted to stick his tongue out and gross Zexion out, but decided against it upon seeing the slight grin on the other's face.
"Hmph." He pushed Zexion's hand off, and then, reaching over behind him in a feat of agile flexibility, grabbed one of the plates of cookies coming from the kitchen, freshly baked. "Here." Handing a few gingersnaps to Zexion, he took some for his own and began methodically snapping off the cookie men's legs, then arms, and finally heads, before popping them into his mouth and crunching on them. Zexion accepted the cookies and nibbled on them, quietly decapitating them with his teeth, before returning to his book and continuing the story. Riku sighed, and peered over the slate-haired man's shoulder to read some, before feeling uncomfortable with his position and moving off. He reminded himself to ask Zexion to lend him the impossibly rare book sometime later as he got off the couch and left.
Zexion remained absorbed in his book, so much so that he barely noticed when Luxord came over to drop off a present, a strange box covered in multicolored duct tape instead of wrapping paper, and asked for him to move a bit so that he wouldn't hit him with the gift.
But soon enough, Zexion closed the book, unable to concentrate any longer, and wandered over to the refreshments table once more. There, Yazoo and Loz greeted him with small smiles, and the oldest brother handed him a paopu fruit juice box, as they were all out of Red Nocturnes. Thanking them, the Schemer returned to his spot on the couch and sat down, delicately sipping the drink, when Demyx plopped bodily down beside him, slinging an arm around his shoulders.
"So! You havin' fun?" Zexion rolled his eyes. Was everyone determined to ask the same question?
"Maybe a little..." Demyx's emerald eyes widened.
"What? But Christmas is a time for love, and for family and friends! You should be having loads of fun!" Zexion winced.
"It just... brings back memories, and... I don't know anymore. Sure, your party is fun," he agreed, but only to stop the inevitable lecture. The dirty-blond looked mockingly shocked.
"No, it's not a party," drawled Demyx happily. "It's a Christmas bash! A very merry Christmas bash!" Zexion looked at him blankly.
"What, pray tell, is the difference?" There was a pause. It wasn't silent, as Reno and the Gullwings were up on the makeshift stage, singing Christmas songs, still, but there was a pause nonetheless.
"...I'm calling it a bash, and that's that!" Demyx crossed his arms and pointed his nose in the air, while grinning and looking at his partner out of the corner of his eyes, when suddenly, the front door burst open and the music abruptly stopped.
"Ho, ho, ho!" The room fell silent, and several people, including Sora, Xigbar, Yuffie, and Xion, had very excited expressions on their faces. There was a jingle of bells, and a tall silhouette could be seen on the wall.
"OI! Hope you've all been good this year, cuz Sandy Claws just came to town!" Axel crowed, standing on top of a chair he had moved next to the door. A tall, bony, and impossibly thin man entered the room, smiling widely and wearing a Santa costume, sans the beard. A round of applause greeted the thin Sandy Claws, and he spread his arms as though attempting to hug everyone.
"Ho, ho, ho! MER-RY CHRISTMAS!" The lumpy, toy-filled burlap sack in his hand he slung over as he sat down in one of the armchairs. "You there!" he called out to Aqua. She pointed at herself in surprise, and the Sandy Claws nodded. "Yes, you!" He motioned for her to come closer. She shook her head laughingly, and refused to, until Zack and Ventus forcibly (but gently) pushed her over to the dressed up man. "What would you like for Christmas?" Demyx chortled slightly as Aqua was forced to sit down on Sandy Claws' lap, with Terra and Vanitas taking as many photos as possible of her to store as blackmail and treasures for the next generation.
"Ooh, Zexion," he asked suddenly, whirling around and accidentally talking a bit loudly into his ear for a moment. "What did you ask for Christmas?"
"New ears. I think you made me deaf." Naminé, who was standing nearby and had been chatting with Kadaj, looked around and giggled at Zexion's sarcasm. He smiled at her, and shook his head, pretending to screw on his ears a bit tighter. Demyx giggled. (It was a manly giggle.)
"Haha, you're just being silly!" The slate-haired Schemer raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.
"Alright then, I'll be just as serious as you. Demyx, what did you ask Sandy Claws for?" Demyx grinned deviously and ran across the room and up the stairs to fetch his beloved blue sitar, Arpeggio. It took him less than thirty seconds to return, as he was a fast runner, and he strummed the strings confidently, drawing in a deep breath.
"I'm not asking much this Christmas, there's just one thing that I need––" Zexion pretended to gag and glared at the dirty-blond.
"Demyx, I'm warning you now, if you start singing that song to me, I swear I'll leave the party." Demyx frowned for a moment, looking crestfallen as Zexion sank back into the couch, when suddenly a bright idea hit him, and he smiled brightly. Walking over to Naminé and gently prying her from her conversation with Kadaj, he clasped her hands and shot a thumbs-up at Reno, who immediately turned on Rikku's music player and began playing the song.
"I won't even look for presents underneath the Christmas tree! I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Baby, make my wish come true! All I want for Christmas is youuuu!" As Demyx sang (quite well, actually, though Zexion would not bloody likely ever admit it out loud), he twirled Naminé around as he danced with her with upbeat moves. The young blonde artist laughed gaily as Demyx left her nearly breathless, and the small crowd around them (as there were still some people paying more attention to Sandy Claws) began clapping with the rhythm, and cheering them on. Zexion watched with an amused smirk as Demyx finally finished an abridged version of the song, and thanked Naminé for the dance. He then walked back to Zexion, and smiled widely.
"I didn't sing it to you," was all he said.
It was five minutes until midnight, and everyone still awake was buzzed with excitement. Those overage held wine glasses filled with alcoholic drinks, ready to toast for Christmas, and those underage were given either soda or paopu juice by the ever watchful ex-general Sephiroth and retired sensei Eraqus. Sora, Kairi, and Xion had fallen asleep on top of Vanitas, and Riku was helping Leon, Xigbar, Ariel, Eric, and Olette cook the Christmas feast. Zexion, Luxord, Demyx, and Naminé stood off to the side by the Christmas tree, watching as the clock slowly ticked closer to Christmas.
Most of the adults were sitting at one of the tables in a large group, playing a few "Grown-ups only" games amongst themselves, or at least until there was a minute left on the clock.
Pretty soon, as the clock hands neared twelve midnight, Riku emerged from the kitchen (wearing, much to Reno's amusement, a Moogle apron) and fetched them all glasses of Scarlet Tangos, for them to toast the coming of Christmas.
One minute remained on the clock... now thirty seconds... Every guest still awake, even Leon, Ventus, and Sephiroth, began counting down until midnight. "Five... Four... Three... Two... One!" A loud chorus of Merry Christmas!-es echoed throughout the house, drowning out the music still playing. Paine quickly cut the music player off and struck up a new song with her bandmates, and sang in a remix of We Wish You A Merry Christmas.
"Merry Christmas, Demyx, Luxord, Naminé, and Riku," Zexion said with a soft smile. "Thank you, for making this one the best for me in maybe... ten years." The others looked very surprised.
"Well then, God bless us, every one!" said Demyx cheerfully, giving Zexion a side-hug. The five of them raised their glasses, clinked them together, and downed their drinks in one simultaneous go, grinning at each other as they swallowed. But then, unexpectedly, a sudden, rising chorus of "Aww!" rose up from behind them. The five of them curiously looked over, to find Marluxia and Larxene tightly embracing, and kissing underneath another branch of mistletoe. Naminé giggled as she pointed out to Zexion a very soaked, very drenched Axel, with a bucket over his head.
Yes, it was a very merry Christmas bash, indeed.
"Aaand... That's that!" said Axel with a grin. Zexion and Luxord rolled their eyes.
"I s'pose it was alright... There wasn't near enough rum, and I didn't get to play Holiday Poker... but it was alright." Roxas looked at Zexion for his opinion. The Schemer sighed.
"Well––"
"Hey, hey, you guys, look!" Kairi ran up to the white picnic table on the balcony outside, and handed Riku a crumpled envelope. "This... just... came in," she panted lightly. Sora gave her a pat on the shoulder and a smile in thanks. Axel quickly took the envelope from Riku and opened it up.
"It's... another note from The Author."
"Well, go on and read it, then!" called out Vanitas from the table one over. Axel cleared his throat.
"The Author would like to thank anyone and everyone who managed to read the entire thing through, and make it alive to the ending. Right here is where she spiritually gives all those wonderful people internet-hugs and sugar-free paopu bubble gum." Demyx and Roxas snickered quietly. "She thanks everyone for their time, and wishes them happy holidays and a tolerable new year, since wishing for a wonderful new year is, in her opinion, a bit of an insult to wishes, since hoping that so many people have 366 days of fair fortune is a bit unfair to those hardworking genies, angels, and Gods." There was a pause as everyone stared at each other in mildly puzzled surprise. Axel cleared his throat again, but was interrupted this time by Xion, who was walking onto the balcony, with a roll of silver tape in hand.
"Hey, guys!" she smiled.
"Hey, Xion," Roxas greeted with a wave. "Come on over, you just interrupted Axel's dramatic reading of the note."
"Oh, sorry!" Xion apologized quickly. "Who's the note from?"
"The Author," Zexion, Luxord, Naminé, and Saïx said in unintentional unison. The mini event was surprising in that all four of them looked downright bored with the note. Seifer sighed, and gestured at the tape in Xion's hands after a moment of thought.
"What's that?" Xion looked down at the tape, and read the label.
"It's Writer's Tape. The Author left it for us in a box, in case we found any plot holes. There's a whole set of them downstairs..." Xigbar laughed.
"As if! She's crazy if she thinks we'll need that much. I mean, her story wasn't that bad. I got to carry a golf bag of candy canes!" Selphie sighed, and stealthily attempted to snatch the note from Axel, but failed before she could even touch the paper: Tidus had tackled her. As the two wrestled on the ground, Axel decided to resume reading.
"Uh... blah blah blah... okay, here we go. Ahem. The Author would also like to mention how she finds it ironic how Crimson Pranksters could accurately be used to define and/or nickname––Hey!" He glared at the paper, and if looks could burn, the note would have been incinerated into fine, fine powder by then. Roxas looked up.
"Hey... what? What does she think it could be used to name?" Axel began folding up the paper.
"You'll laugh."
"Will not."
"Will so."
"Will not." Roxas jumped up, unsuccessfully attempting to take the note from Axel. Zexion sighed.
"Ladies, ladies, please. End your childish bickering." The slate-haired Schemer stood, neatly plucked the letter from Axel's hands, and somersaulted a few feet away, before chuckling to himself. Axel glared at him as Roxas looked up at his redhaired friend with his puppy-dog eyes.
"Please, Axel? Who?" Zexion reopened the note and laughed softly, and Axel sighed in defeat.
"...Reno and me."
Sora and Ventus grinned.
"That's not that bad..."
"Says you." Zexion quickly folded the note into a paper airplane and shot it at Axel, before returning to his seat on the bench and hugging his book close to him. Tron cleared his throat.
"Um. No one else's noticed that Zex never got to finish his answer, right? Let's let him." Hayner laughed.
"Sure! We've got nothing better to do." Zexion chucked one of the plastic spoons on the table at him before he answered.
"Well, I think that the way I've been written is––"
~~~Angels in flight, I need more affection than you know~~~
There was a pause at Zexion's ringtone.
"Wow, and you said you weren't emo, Zexy?"
"Stuff it, Demyx," he growled, before taking out his CRC-SISTCP (short for Cardiac Research Center Standard Issue ShinRa Technology Cell Phone) and opening the text message, mentally noting that he should change the ringtone that came with the phone. Aqua gave him a half-sympathetic, half-amused glance.
"You're just busy being interrupted all day today, aren't you?" she asked rhetorically with a smile. Zexion shrugged as he scanned the message quickly. Naminé propped her face up on her hands and looked up at him.
"What does it say?"
"It's... it's a text from The Author...She says: I know I didn't write you as well this time around, and I'm very, very sorry. Please don't come after my children-" He paused. "What? she doesn't HAVE any children..." There was another buzz from the phone. You get what I mean, it read, though Zexion did not read it out loud. Apologetic mood's gone. Just be thankful I didn't make you kiss someone ridiculous underneath that mistletoe, like–– Zexion paled and quickly deleted the text, firmly setting his mouth in a tight line. He didn't care if it was slightly hypocritical; no one was going to know what The Author had written. Zexion coughed into his hand.
"Er, anyway, she asks that I forgive her for the OOC-ness that I display in her story, and that I have a wonderful Christmas."
"What did the second text say?" asked Terra.
"She clarified that she was only joking about the children." Zexion thanked Xehanort for helping him perfect his ability to lie undetected.
Naminé quietly popped the bubble of gum she was chewing, and reached up to hug Zexion's middle.
"Well, it was fun while it lasted. Let's go get some ice cream. I'm hungry." Zexion looked down at her and softly smiled.
"Sure. Want to race? Whoever gets there last has to pay." Naminé grinned deviously.
"You're on!" The rest of the group watched as the two dashed off to the second floor. But as soon as they left, Marluxia's phone vibrated in his pocket; taking it out, he saw a long text message, again from The Author, with instructions to read it out loud. He glared at his phone, before sighing.
"Alright everyone, listen up. The Author owes me for this, since I didn't get much of a part in this story; the next story to be updated will be one featuring me." Larxene elbowed him playfully.
"Won't that be nice for a change?" The pink-haired man ignored his girlfriend for the moment, and began reading the text.
"MidnightSchemer13 asks that the wonderful reader please go and read WeDidItForTheDead's version of the prompt, and give her friend the wonderful gift of a review on her story. She also apologizes for any mistakes this story may have had, and hopes that you've enjoyed reading it. She also apologizes for adding in the four OCC's (other canon characters) Reno, Kadaj, Yazoo, and Loz into her story, if the reader was against add-ins such as those. She once again wishes everyone a happy end to 2011, and bids you good day. The end."
And just for kicks, Marluxia looped a finger through one of Larxene's belt loops, gently guided her up, and kissed her full on the lips, as the one-minute liplock in the story just wasn't long enough (though he had to admit, he would have liked to douse Axel with water again).
The End.