Just a bit of random introduction! This entire story is based on last Monday when a cute guy revved his Mustang at me. I was amazed because, for serious, I'm not even old enough to drive! But it was fun, and what I wouldn't give for Axel to do that to me!

On another note, Kindgom Hearts does not belong to me. Nor do I own any of the car companies mentioned throughout (how I wish...) However, this epic plot does. And to any band out there that may be named Right-Click, I don't own you either but I am fairly dure that if Axel was in your band I would have heard of you by now. lol

Chapter 1

Bright pop music blasted my best friend Zexion's speakers to infinitesimal pieces- or at least, that's what it felt like. The bass pumped like it had one day left to live and was making the most of it. In the backseat, Roxas was bobbing his head, eyes closed as he let himself slip away into the beat.

We idled at a red light, the poor little Porsche's window glass rattling slightly. I took the opportunity to check my styled-up mullet in the flip-down mirror, practicing my sly grin. It didn't work any more than it had before, but I didn't let it get to me. Much.

Zexion was scowling to himself, hands on the wheel, casting dark glances at me every few seconds. As if this was all my idea! We had all agreed on this two freaking weeks ago- we were hitting the clubs tonight, and we had to go out looking cool. And as all I had was my Moped (the Toyota had died tragically a month before, but that has absolutely no relevance whatsoever to anything else), and Roxas's car was a piece of crap Honda…

Besides, Zexion didn't have to bring his favorite car. He could have driven us around perfectly well in his Jaguar or either of his Aston-Martins. So there.

As I flipped the mirror back up, a low, loud roar penetrated even the inconquerable pop. A sleek, jet-black Mustang pulled up alongside my window, growling with power even stopped at the light. Scarlet flames twisted and almost danced up the hood and spilled over down the sides chaotically, and the windows were tinted as dark as they could go. Its frame shook from both its obviously tricked-out engine and the force of the music playing inside it.

Roxas, already totally up on adrenaline, leaned forward to roll my window down and stuck his hand out the gap to give the driver a thumbs-up. In complete agreement with his opinion, I grinned and gave a peace sign of my own.

The blacked-out window rolled down, revealing a guy around our age with a mass of spiky hair the exact shade of the flames on his car. He was driving one-handed, and raised his other hand to give us a two-fingered salute, smiling in the way I wished I could. His eyes were covered with black sunglasses- though it was practically ten PM- but he pulled them off, and I found myself staring into a pair of the most alluring emerald eyes I'd ever seen in my life. There was no other word for it- this guy was hot.

"Yo!" he called over. "Where you guys headed?"

"Destini," I replied, almost yelling to make myself heard over both our stereos and his engine. It was the most popular club in the area.

"Hey, me too!" he tossed back, facing spreading into an expression of genuine excitement much like the one Roxas wore. "The name's Sinclair! Wanna meet up?"

Zexion's head shake was lost on Roxas, who answered with an emphatic, "Yeah, man!"

The green light in the opposite lane flashed to yellow. "Let's race!" Sinclair challenged, and rolled up his window. We both turned imploringly to Zexion, knowing his Porsche could get well into the 100 mph's.

He sighed and clicked up a gear, ready to floor the gas.

Our light turned green. Zexion stepped on it, but with a glass-shattering explosion, Sinclair's car took off at what was probably the speed of sound, crossing the intersection a full second ahead of us.

Roxas was thrown backward, not being one for seatbelts, and slumped there in a state of shock at the Mustang's acceleration, his mouth hanging open. "Damn," was the only thing he could find to say.

We'd lost sight of the car by the time we'd covered the last few blocks to Destini's parking lot, and as we pulled in, we found it already parked. Sinclair leaned casually up against its trunk with his arms crossed and wearing a smug smirk. He had his sunglasses back on. Oddly, I found myself regretting that fact, and wishing he would take them back off. I liked being able to see his eyes.

The three of us scrambled out, and Sinclair's smirk became a grin once again. "Good to meet you guys!" he said, in much more normal tones now that he didn't have to talk over his crazy ride. "Ready to party?"

"You bet!" I replied, giving him a fist bump out of sheer force of habit. He didn't look perturbed by it at all, for which I was thankful. "I'm Demyx; this is Roxas, and Zexion. You've got a hell of a car, you know that?"

"I wanna buy it," Roxas inserted in a voice I normally associated with concussed people.

"Sorry man, but it's not for sale. I've practically paid for it twice with all the upgrades. Besides, you wouldn't be mean enough to take it from me on its debut night, would you?" Sinclair countered smoothly.

Roxas's face fell, but he said, "Of course not."

"At least you all seem to know how to recognize a truly good automobile," Sinclair offered lightly. "Sorry to disappoint, though."

"Why don't we go on in?" Zexion interrupted. I got the feeling he didn't exactly welcome Sinclair's presence, but I put it down to his finicky sense of style. To him, a good car was fast but unobtrusive, and a night was well spent catching up on the inner workings of European countries. Old money and all that, I supposed.

We all drifted to the doors, flashed our IDs, and hit the scene.

Destini occupied an entire skyscraper, with 50+ floors of dance music, neon lights, and an endless supply of drinks. Even on the first floor, I immediately recognized some acquaintances from our college. Riku and Sora, and openly gay couple, stood out in the middle of the dance floor; motorcycle racer extraordinaire Cloud Strife was flirting with his bartender; and a guy I knew was named Marluxia was heading for the elevators, accompanied by an attractive blonde. (He was extremely easy to find in a crowd, because he was constantly dying his hair to match "the Hollywood trends", and it was currently bright pink.)

Roxas was now gaping at this sight, mouth still open, and already getting into the music. Zexion was casting longing look at the bar. Personally, I had no idea what I wanted to do first. I loved music, but I didn't know the song that was playing, and it wasn't quite my type.

A hand fell on my shoulder, and I jumped before realizing it was Sinclair. "I've heard the place to be is Level 45. You wanna come with?"

"Oh! Yeah, sure!" I agreed without even stopping to think about it. I automatically wanted to be wherever this gorgeous guy was, though I couldn't give you a reason why if I tried. I looked around for my friends. "Hey, Zex, Roxas. Let's meet up here at, say, 1? If anything comes up, text or call. I'm off."

Roxas nodded and dashed off toward Sora and Riku, who he knew pretty well. I wasn't even sure if Zexion heard or not, as he seemed fixated on the racks of alcohol behind the bar. As I followed Sinclair to the elevators, I hoped he knew what he was doing. For such a small guy, he could hold his drinks extremely well, but I had my doubts. He liked the stuff far too much in my opinion, and I wasn't looking forward to tomorrow if one of us had to drive his Porsche home. He treated that car like it was his own firstborn child.

We stepped into an elevator along with a random couple who were pretty thoroughly engrossed in making out with each other. Giving them their personal space, we pressed the button for floor 45 and headed up.

"So…" I began. Silences all feel awkward to me. Well, not exactly awkward, but I prefer to fill them given the chance. "What do you do, Sinclair? I swear I've heard your name around before."

"I've got an album out, that's probably where," he replied nonchalantly. There was no boast in his voice at all.

I couldn't help but stare. "You sing?"

"Yeah, and play guitar. And jazz up cars, in my free time." He smiled easily. "How about you?"

"I'm only in college cause my parents would disown me if I didn't go. I like to sing myself, but you're probably- you know- better." I was mentally hyperventilating. I was talking to a rock star! Between the three of us and our other friend Xion (she wasn't 21 yet), we probably had his CD lying around somewhere. The sheer odds of this happening were insane!

"Hey, you don't know that for sure, do you?" Sinclair responded kindly. "For all I know, you'll be topping the charts six months from now. Don't put yourself down. I can't stand people who do that."

I instantly resolved to never do it again. I didn't want to give him any reason whatsoever to dislike me. For a famous guy, he was really nice. And cool. And, of course, amazingly good-looking, but didn't that come with the territory? His hair could be dyed that epic color to match his car- I didn't know.

An uncomfortable idea fell on me then. "Hey, Sinclair…" I started, but then chickened out, feeling embarrassed.

"What is it?" he asked, that genuinely caring expression still on his face. "You can't weird me out, you know. The number of completely out-there questions I've been asked is beyond comprehension. So, please, talk away."

I smiled a little, relieved. "Um, I was just sort of wondering if this is the VIP floor we're going to. Cause I wouldn't, you know, feel like I really belonged… and stuff."

"Don't worry, it isn't," he replied perfectly seriously. "I don't exactly enjoy those sorts of places myself. Everybody there always acts so… superior. They've got billions, and they know each other and all the scandals and news, and then there's me using my royalties to pay for gas and food and speeding tickets."

I was seriously liking this guy more with every second. Besides the parts that were obviously not, he just seemed so normal. Like I could have hung out with him in passing during high school- a guy who enjoyed the best things in life (namely electric guitars, muscle cars, and crazy fashion) and purposefully avoided falling in with the "populars".

"So, like, is Sinclair your real name?" The question sort of fell out of my mouth accidentally.

He flashed me a cocky grin. "That's a story for another day, my friend, as we appear to have arrived."

If you have any questions about the cars, just ask and I'll show you what they look like. Actually, any questions/comments at all would be greatly appreciated! I'm currently on Chapter 5 so await updates! =D