What's that? I'm not dead? No...must have not put in the right poison. Haha...kidding.

Well, here I am, with crazed plot and the need to write it. I've had other plots in my head, but this one would not leave me be, so I had to write it down. Of course I got obsessed with it and now I am determined to finish it (and hopefully, I can this time). I don't know what's really going to happen throughout this entire ride, but I hope it will be for the best for this story...yeah...But there are two warnings I want to leave you all:

One, there will be some mature scenes. I don't mean only 'sexual' mature, in which many a perverted minor would disregard this warning anyway (says this cause she herself is one): There will be violence and some gore. In fact, the next chapter will have a bit of gore in it, and it involves kids. I'm not overconfident in my ability to detail such scenes, but I know some readers do not care for such things, so I'm letting you know, now.

Two, there will be multiple pairings. And I won't tell you the pairs: I'll let you all figure it out!

I really hope everyone enjoys this one: I have a really good feeling on how this one will go.

So, without further adieu...Enjoy the fic! Have fun!

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. Sad.

When Xigbar was only18 years old, sitting languidly in a musty, small, creative writing prep class in the hot July sun on a Monday, he was taught firmly two very important things during his class period that he could still remember clearly to this day.

One, don't let your sentences run. No one wants to hear 'and' or 'like' to describe a story or to give directions.

And two, avoid clichés like a plague.

The rest well…the rest he couldn't remember because…the rest he had slept through. Or doodled through. Or did whatever distracting thing he could to get through four tedious hours of how many ways you could say a girl and her dog walked to the park, all more arrogantly-prickish than the next.

So when Xigbar managed to pass the class with a manageable C, he ran out into the campus and stretched away the 7 weeks of adjective and adverbs and clauses and, at that moment, promised himself something. Something he had only wrote down less than an hour ago on the left-hand corner of his final paper (So he wouldn't forget) and quickly transferred to his hand before giving his test to his teacher, then shooting out of the class as if his too-small-a-desk was on fire. And when he looked at his hand again, with the ink slightly faded due to his continuously sweaty hands and his almost illegible writing, he grinned like a madding fool. Because on his hand, Xigbar had scribble one sentence. And it wasn't a run-on either.

"My life will never be a cliché."

Hard promise to keep, considering no one knew what would happen in the next moment of their life: you might get hit by a random, falling tree. Or bump into someone who could become your "one true love". Or win a large sum of muney. Or nothing could happen at all. And when Xigbar realized this, he decided to specify his promise a little more, so not to break it entirely.

Instead, he decided he would try to do everything out of the ordinary he could. But when his motto had him nearly homeless and working for a eight-year-old girl, tossing and keeping a gigantic beach ball in the air a certain number of times, he knew he would have to change the aphorism again.

It took him until age twenty-six to finally get the saying to a point where he was able to live both reasonably and spontaneously. And by this time, Xigbar had seen enough, done enough, and was enough to actually follow this advice to the T. So when it flew out of his mouth so perfectly, so weirdly and so right, Xigbar could only break out into his trademark grin in his wake.

"Always one crooked foot forward."