This story was pretty much my baby throughout all of 2013 and I thought it was high time I actually uploaded it. it was going to be a oneshot but after 12000 words and not even half way through I put it into chapters. After looking into the back-stories of Organisation XIII I realised that some of them didn't have one so this is basically my version of Marluxia before he became a Nobody. I could write more in this AN but I'd rather just let you guys read. Hope you like it also the exert at the beginning if from an actual story I found online, when I read it my reaction was the same as his haha

Melissa derived satisfaction from this comment, despite the mangled pronunciation of her name. She could feel her horny levels rising 30% and her hooha was getting right slimy with anticipation of participation.

"Gary, me need sex now inside please." Damn! Melissa thought. I wish there was a better way to say that!

Gary was only too eager to comply. He wrenched his peeny away from Melissa's grubby paws and thrust inside her hooha with a thunderous orgasm. She was pregnant, but that could be dealt with in the morning, provided she was still alive.

"Outstanding stuff, Melanie," Gary chortled. "I know I could just go to sleep now, but I would like to continue satisfying you, sans peeny."

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What the fuck am I reading? This has to be a troll! At least my writing is better than that, even though most of my days are filled with me staring at the cursor blinking on and off on my computer screen as I scramble for an idea – any idea – to pop into my head.

In case you hadn't guessed I'm a writer. I know what you're thinking; everyone with Microsoft Word and a basic understanding of the English Language thinks they're the next E.L. James or something these days. Personally I set my sights a little higher :- a new-age Oscar Wilde or T.S. Eliot or another of histories great writers, not someone who makes a living re-cycling plot lines and jumping on the next proverbial band-wagon that comes their way. Having said that I did have a number of ideas for different vampire novels but after the Twilight Saga (which technically is a cycle because there are only four books) was published I scrapped the lot of them.

There are draw-backs to classing yourself as a writer. For one thing when you tell people they give you this look as if to say 'why? Why on earth would you choose a career where you have little to no money for the vast majority of your life.' For another thing you have little to no money for the vast majority of your life. Despite that, though, I still do it – it's my passion. It's like an addiction to me. Some people are addicted to football, cars or updating their facebook status with pointless drivel that no one really gives a shit about. My addiction is sitting in front of my laptop, cup of coffee in hand, music on, and letting my fingers do the talking. Well...it was until my current bout of 'writers block' set in.

It started a couple of months ago. I was in the middle of the climactic scene of my début novel – a tragic love story between a man on the brink of suicide and his guardian angel – when I couldn't complete the chapter I was writing. Actually never mind the chapter I could barely complete the sentence! I no longer found interest in my characters; I no longer cared for them and once the emotional connection was gone the plot line alluded me. Every time I sat down at my computer to write I ended up surfing the internet for bad stories in the attempt to convince myself that I'm not a terrible writer and that I'm not wasting my life.

So that is what my days have been filled with :- I wake up, pour myself a coffee, stare at the cursor blinking on my computer screen for about half an hour, give up and read internet fiction then wander round the flat I share with my friend Lea muttering affirmations of my writing capabilities to myself like some paranoid schizophrenic. I was in this state of the day when my friend Lea came home and found me.

"Bad day?" he asked dumping his tote bag by the front door and throwing himself down on the sofa.

"Normal day." I replied, sitting down at my desk with my back to him and resting my forehead against the edge of my laptop, the story of Melissa and Gary's exploits still offending the screen.

A flash a red invaded my vision and I felt Lea's arms wrap around my neck as he hugged me, placing his head on top of mine. Lea had always been a very touchy-feely person; when I first met him it creeped me out but over the years I got used to it. I have known Lea since we were seven; we went through school together and after we graduated we moved into a shared flat in the cheapest (and, if I'm honest, shittest) part of Radiant Gardens. I leaned my head back on Lea's shoulder, allowing him to view what was on the screen.

"The fuck is this?" he asked.

"I don't even know." I replied, sighing. Lea reached over and closed the program down to reveal my half finished chapter underneath.

"Why are you reading this shit?" he asked.

"I don't even know." I said again, rubbing my eyes in frustration. "I guess I was trying to make myself feel better about my writing." Lea squeezed me into the hug in an attempt to comfort me.

"You're a good writer Ria." he stated. I wish he wouldn't call me Ria; Lumaria is a girlie enough name without him shortening it to an actual girl's name. "You're just going through a bit of a rough patch at the moment."

"I guess." I sighed, he squeezed me again.

"Keep your chin up, it'll come back to you." He clapped me on the shoulder and returned to the sofa. "Hey I sold a painting today." he added as an after-thought stretching himself out. Lea is an artist, he mostly does sketches for architectural firms but sometimes he manages to sell one of his paintings, he also doubles as my illustrator when I need images to go with my stories.

"That's great, which one?" I asked. I was genuinely happy for him; just because my career was going down the pan didn't mean I wished everyone else was in the same boat as me.

"The one where you and Arlene posed as Romeo and Juliet." he stated, picking up a note-pad from the floor and beginning to doodle. Lea never stops being an artist, even when he's not working on a building design, a painting or something for me he always draws in his spare time. He says he needs the practice but he really doesn't.

"That's a good painting, I like that one." I said. Lea looked up from his doodling and smirked at me. He knew why I liked that particular painting and it wasn't necessarily because of my friend's artistry.

Arlene worked in the café round the corner from mine and Lea's flat. We had discovered the place just under a year ago; the drinks were cheep, not completely rancid and we were poor. Arlene had brought our drinks over and I immediately fell in love with her – she was stunning with cropped golden blonde hair, curves in all the right places and a smile to die for. Lea noticed my infatuation (I will admit I wasn't exactly subtle, I couldn't take my eyes off her) and, on another visit, he asked her to join us. The three of us had talked for nearly an hour before her boss told her to get back to work. We had then met her after her shift to talk some more and we had been friends ever since. Arlene was my muse – I based the angel in my novel on her – she was the inspiration for my creativity and she has no bloody idea!

If I'm honest she has no idea because I haven't told her (and I've sworn Lea to secrecy on pain of death if he reveals anything). Again, if I'm honest I don't know if I want to tell her – if I tell her and she doesn't feel the same way then it will ruin out friendship and make things awkward between us (plus she may spit in my coffee if I piss her off). No, I prefer to take the approach of loving her from afar and writing angsty poetry about it like some love-struck fifteen year old getting shot down by his first crush. You know the mature, healthy was to deal with it.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, Lea continuing with his drawing while I stared at my cursor blinking ominously, almost tauntingly. I groaned in frustration when I could take the repetitive sight no longer and slammed my laptop closed. I folded my arms on the device, laid my head on them and groaned again this time in anguish. I heard the scratching of Lea's pencil cease and heard him walk over to the tiny kitchen area situated in the far corner of our living room. I heard him fill the kettle and then proceed to make two cups of tea. After a lot of clunking, and a few whispered curses as Lea burnt himself (it did always make me laugh; the man was an amazing artist but could not retain the ability to make a hot drink without burning some part of his anatomy), a clunk signified a cup had been place in front of me. I looked up to see Lea smiling sympathetically at me.

"It'll come, don't worry." he told me and gave my shoulder a squeeze.

"I know." I replied pinking up my cup. "It's just I've been in this writer's block slump for too long now and I can't seem to get myself out of it." I took a sip of tea letting the liquid warm my insides but burning my tongue and the roof of my mouth in the process.

"You just need to give it time." he told me, sitting back down on the sofa and nursing his own cup.

"I guess so." I mumbled. "I would have thought I'd given it enough time by now though."

"You know what you need," he said, suddenly clicking his fingers. "you need a night out!"

"I do not need a night out!" I replied. A night out was the last thing that I needed now. I needed a break, yes, but I did not need a night of drinking myself half to death then expelling the contents of my stomach into an alley before spending the entire next day recovering. I needed a break but I didn't need to waste a days worth of writing over it.

"Oh come on, Ria, it will be fun." Lea whined playfully.

"I do not need a night out!" I repeated.

"Fine, be boring." he joked, pretending to be serious. He stared at me, a pleading look on his face, and I knew that he wouldn't let the subject drop until I submitted. Lea could get exactly what he wanted by being relentless – it was one of the things I both admired and loathed about him. I sighed, if I relented now it would make the evening much more painless.

"I'll go out." I stated "I just don't want to go 'Out' out." It was a valid excuse; I was more than happy to leave the house tonight, I just didn't want to overdo it and I had learnt long ago Lea's definition of going out and going 'Out' out. One meant a few quite drinks and the possibility of an undercooked burger if we had enough munny and the other meant over doing it on the whisky and the possibility of hospitalisation. Lea brightened at this.

"Great! Let's get a takeaway and go for a few drinks!" he grinned. He downed the rest of his tea, jumped off the sofa and ran to his room to shower and change. I shook my head and chuckled slightly, Lea was so easy to please.

A few hours later Lea and I were in our local :- a small pub a few streets away from our flat. It was the ideal place for us; it was close enough for us to be able to stumble home easily if we had a bit too much, it was filled with people of all shapes and sizes so we didn't stick out too much (although with a shoulder-length pink ponytail I stick out anywhere and Lea seems to get his styling tips from Sonic the Hedgehog – we're not exactly the most inconspicuous pair) and it was exceptionally cheep. (When I say exceptionally cheep I mean it :- we could happily drink our way though six pints each and not spend that much munny.)

"To good scotch!" Lea toasted, raising his glass.

"To selling paintings!" I replied, clinking my glass against his. We both took sips from the amber liquid in our respective glasses. The drink burnt the back of my throat and I shuddered – it had been a while since I had last drank.

"Listen, dude," Lea began setting his drink back down on the bar. "I know you're bummed about your novel but it'll come to you, trust me."

"I know." I replied, trying not to let myself feel disheartened; tonight was about Lea selling a painting not me failing to complete a simple sentence – I was out now, dammit, I was going to try enjoy myself! "I just need a bit of inspiration."

"You just need a bit of Arlene." he grinned slyly. I shot him a glare, I knew he was only joking but that was uncouth and uncool. "Oh unclench, no one heard me." he stated and took another sip of his drink. "And even if they did, no one even knows her here so you've got nothing to worry about."

I opened my mouth to retort but the appearance of the barman cut me off. I could easily laugh and joke around with Lea and Arlene (Lea more so because I'd known him longer) but when I was faced with other people I suddenly became painfully shy. Maybe it had been too long since I had last left the flat; maybe I was turning into some kind of Edgar Allan Poe-esque recluse who no longer knew how to interact with the outside world. If that's the case, man I need a hobby.

"Need a refill, lads?" he asked gruffly, but not unkindly.

"Yeah," Lea replied "two of the same please mate." The barman nodded and began busying himself with our drinks.

I watched in fascination as he dexterously opened a half full bottle of scotch and filled our glasses in quick succession without stopping or spilling a drop. I would never be able to do that – I'm too clumsy and always end up breaking things, also I'm not exactly what you would call graceful by any stretch of the imagination. He pushed the glasses back towards us and placed the bottle underneath the bar. Lea was about to hand over the munny when the barman suddenly stopped, a thought occurring to him.

"You boys drink in here a fair bit, don't you?" he asked. I shrugged, we sometimes came here but we weren't what you would call regulars. We weren't in here every night or anything like that.

"A bit why?" I asked, confused. The barman opened his mouth as if to say something then closed it again.

"Forget it, it's not that important." he said shaking his head.

"No go on," Lea pressed "if it's important enough to ask..." The barman leaned on the bar and lowered his voice.

"You two know Braig by any chance?" he asked. I looked at Lea and shrugged, the name didn't sound familiar. "Comes in here a fair bit." Lea clicked his fingers in sudden comprehension.

"Slicked back black hair, red scarf, kind of soldiery looking?" he asked. "Often sits in the corner with a bottle of Port Royal rum?"

"That's the one." the bar man said, pretending to shoot Lea with his finger to signal that he was correct.

"What about him?" I asked. The barman looked around suspiciously, as if someone might be listening in although everyone around us was engrossed in their own conversations.

"He's gone missing." he stated. Lea and I looked at each other in confusion and then back to the barman.

"How do you know he's gone missing?" Lea asked. "He might have been drafted – he looks like he's in the army."

"See that's what I thought at first but some of his buddies came in here looking for him, said they hadn't seen him in a couple of weeks. They'd been to his place and it hadn't been lived in but all his things, clothes and such, were still there. He never mentioned going anywhere to them and, rightly, they're starting to worry."

"Have they notified anyone?" I asked. The barman shook his head gravely.

"Apparently he hasn't been gone long enough to be classed as a missing person." he stated. "I was just wondering if anyone had seen him around; big guy like Braig, seems like he can handle himself but if he's gone missing...well, it can give cause to worry."

"If we see him we'll let you know." Lea told him, the barman smiled warmly.

"Ah, you're a good pair of lads." he stated. "What are your names?"

"I'm Lea and this is my friend Lumaria." Lea said introducing us. "We live just round the corner."

"I'm Cid." the barman told us. "Moved here about six months ago with my daughter, Aerith." I looked at Lea who had raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. I knew what he was thinking – pervert always had that look on his face when he thought there was a chance he could get laid. I raised an eyebrow back at him as if to silently ask 'really?' He could not be thinking about getting into this unsuspecting girl's knickers when we'd just found out that a local might have gone missing.

"How old is your daughter?" Lea asked – apparently he could – appearing nonchalant to Cid but I could see straight through him. He was thinking with his bollocks again.

"Probably a couple of years younger than you boys." Cid stated. Lea smirked and I shot him an exasperated look. "And a guy like Braig going missing does make me worry about her safety."

"Just out of interest," I asked, changing the subject and reminding Lea how this conversation had started in the first place. "where was the last place anyone saw Braig?"

"Well," Cid began, leaning on the bar towards us conspiratorially. "one of his buddies told me that he'd last been seen after a meeting with Ansem talking with Xehanort..."

"The Mayor's schitzoid aid?" Lea asked in surprise. Ansem was the Mayor of Radiant Gardens and Xehanort was his right hand man and there was something...off about him.

No one could put their finger on it but there was something peculiar and unsettling about Xehanort. Ansem was well respected throughout the entire town (I didn't know much about him but from what people had told me he was a good Mayor and they always spoke very highly of him) but everyone seemed to be either afraid or wary of Xehanort. At times he seemed perfectly normal and at others he seemed to develop schizophrenic tendencies; talking to himself, erratic mood swings and a seemingly split personality. He even appeared to be two different people at times! Most of the townspeople gave him a wide birth unless it was absolutely necessary. This was all rumours and speculation of course but if Braig was last seen with him then, maybe there was some reason that he had gone missing.

"I wouldn't say that too loudly if I were you." Cid cautioned. "But yeah, Braig was last seen talking to Xehanort at the gates of that old abandoned castle, those three creepy girls were with them." Even though he was an aid himself Xehanort had three aids; all female, all constantly silent and all very disturbing. Virtually nothing was known about them except that they worked for Xehanort (probably doing the jobs he didn't want to dirty his hands doing) and they scared the shit out of anyone they came across. "That was a couple of weeks ago, now," Cid continued "and he hasn't been seen since. A couple of the regulars were thinking of sending out a search party."

"Do you need our help?" Lea asked. Cid shook his and began to wipe down the bar.

"Nah, don't want you boys getting mixed up in all this too." he stated.

"Well if we do see him we'll let you know," I said. "and we'll keep an eye out for anything else strange." Cid smiled at us.

"Thank you, lads, we'd all appreciate it." he stated. "You're always welcome here and if you ever need anything all you have to do is ask."

"Thanks." Lea said and made to give Cid the munny for the drinks but he waved his hand dismissively.

"These are on me." he stated and went to answer the request of another punter. Lea shrugged and pocketed the note.

We finished our drinks in silence and then left the pub. After the conversation we had just been party too neither of us felt like continuing our evening or the prospect of having to walk home in the dark (as pathetic as that sounds). That was the first missing person from Radiant Gardens we heard about and as I fell onto my bed about half an hour later, the talk with Cid playing in my head over and over like a broken record, I had a horrible feeling that it wouldn't be the last.

Suspense! Hope you guys liked it, there will definitely be more to follow S-E xx