Zexion has always found his mind wandering, and often in the most inconvenient of times, so he came up with a system to keep himself focused and on track when he needed to be; he wrote himself notes.
He slipped notes into his locker about assignments, he wrote them into his notebooks about reference pages, then slipped more notes onto those pages to recall questions and dates and the time he could allot for their completion.
His parents believe these notes are used as organizational tools, that Zexion spends his leisure time trailing after words and that he's smart enough to incorporate that into his daily life. They read somewhere that if you dress your business as pleasure your success rate increases.
Zexion, however, cares not one iota for success rates or mixing his pleasure with business, he just wants to stay on task until the task is complete. This system allowed him to not worry about remembering to complete assignments or recalling the lectures that spawned them, they were always just done.
It seems normal now, to Zexion, to go through life slipping notes into his own locker and textbooks, and following his notes until they lead him to text of a different kind where he can first get lost in the world of the book, then one entirely his own.
It isn't that he doesn't like the books he reads, on the contrary, he likes each one immensely, he just can't stop himself from imagining further, from imagining "what if's" and "maybe's".
This is, in fact, one of the reasons why he sometimes imagines that someone else is writing him his notes, that it is his own guardian angel that is keeping him on track everyday. Zexion assumes that it is for this reason that it takes him nearly the whole day to realize that one of the messages in his locker aren't written by him.
The writing is more of a scrawl and there's a music note sketched into the corner as if signing the words. It's a quote from something that sounds familiar to the teen, yet he can't quite place it. The lines are split like the lines in Paradise Lost but they wax poetic about music. Zexion is so flustered by the note that for the rest of the day even his own notes can't keep him straight.
The day after Zexion receives the note he convinces himself that it was a fantasy, that he had taken imagining a guardian angel a little too far. He decides to ignore the note in his bag, but ensures that it's safe before doing so.
When Zexion's English class rolls around he finds himself more distracted than usual; for now on top of the note in his bag, English class means that his crush is there as well. Zexion feels utterly ridiculous referring to what he feels for Demyx as 'a crush' though he can't think of anything better to call it. It seems to be a common theme between him and anything to do with the blonde though, for while Zexion is to words like delicious is to chocolate, he can't, for the life of him, think of a way to put his feelings for this loud, uncontrollable blonde in his English class into real words.
Demyx spends most of his time hovering in or around the band room and, based on energy levels and the cadence of his voice, consuming too much sugar. Yet when asked to speak in class he answers the question like he has actually done his homework, and when he plays his guitar during school assemblies he doesn't try to steal the spotlight. Demyx, for all his brash attitude and confidence has this casual self-awareness that people speak about in books but is never seen in real life.
He is everything Zexion wants to be, (talented and social and unassuming and kind) without the blonde even really aware of it, and it makes Zexion's heart stutter just looking at him.
Zexion has entertained the thought of speaking to the typhoon of a teen, but his notes and his nerves don't allow for it. Besides, he's used to people approaching him when they want to talk, and he didn't even want to think of Demyx rejecting him (or worse, having him sit there and make polite conversation because he was too nice to turn Zexion away). At least the way things are he can pretend that he and Demyx have the possibility of more, and not just an inevitable awkward situation whenever they share the same room.
So Zexion contents himself with stolen glances that escalate to the point of him having to leave a very stern note in capital letters on the corner of his desk so that he'll pass the class. Only at the end of this particular block when he's stacking his books, he reaches out to collect his chastising note only to find another one folded neatly beside it.
He looks around for the messenger, but then his eyes land on Demyx and the blonde seems to notice and looks back. When their eyes lock Demyx winks at him and his heart is beating too quickly to let any one idea sit in his brain for more than a single moment. Then the late bell is chirping and Demyx is out the classroom door and Zexion is left frantically scooping up all his stuff in order to make his next class in time.
The note is placed gingerly into his pocket.
Zexion remembers very little of what transpires during the rest of school that day, his mind elsewhere in fanciful lands of smiling, winking blondes who seem to know he exists, and since the school bell seems to be ringing every other minute he doesn't get to read the note from his desk until he's tucked away in his bedroom begging Roxas, a new and rather shy kid who sits next to him in Calculus, to explain today's lecture over e-mail.
This note, like the last one, is simple and unassuming and nothing more than what seems to be a passage from a Shakespearian play:
"If music be the food of love, play on,"
To be entirely honest Zexion thinks that the quote fits perfectly into how he describes Demyx (when he can), the blonde a musician and Zexion someone more than willing to listen for hours if he was the one playing. Beyond this fantasy of never-ending ever-astounding music, he hasn't the faintest idea of who would send it to him or why.
The note puzzles him throughout his self-taught calculus lesson and further into the night, until his world fades to darkness.
There are no strange notes in Zexion's locker the next day, but he spends the entire day waiting to either be approached or sent another message anyway. When nothing happens by last block Zexion feels an odd sort of disappointment settle into his stomach. The feeling makes him feel so off that even the fact that he's sitting in English, literally desks away from the man of his dreams, isn't picking up his spirits.
Zexion ignores his hand-written helpers, something that he really shouldn't be doing after doing exactly this yesterday and most of the day before, and zones out, his right arm sprawled on the side of his desk, lightly holding the two anonymous notes in his hand and staring at them as if they could explain everything to him.
It comes as no surprise when he's startled out of his thoughts, but when he realizes that it's by the shrill sound of a cell phone ringing he joins the class in trying to locate the kid too stupid to put his phone on silent. As it turns out, the kid is Demyx.
Zexion really can't believe it, and as all the other kids turn back to the front where the teacher is staring at Demyx disapprovingly, he keeps staring at the blonde fishing the phone out from his book bag.
Any other kid in Demyx's position would hang up and apologize, but Demyx, ever his own person, answers the phone. He slings his bag over his shoulder as the person on the other end starts speaking and waves to the teacher before making his way to the back of the room.
Zexion focuses on the bank sheet of paper supposed to be his notes so he can avoid staring while the blonde strides past him. He swears he can hear his heartbeat in his ears as it synchs up to the confident footsteps nearing his desk.
Then there are fingers pressing a note into his open palm before trailing up his arm. Zexion turns his head and stares at the blonde, just catching the fading glimpse of a smile that is being shone at him before Demyx's fingers are off his arm and the blonde is swinging the classroom door shut on the teacher's indignant squawks.
The noise, for once, matters not to Zexion, and the fire beneath his skin makes his body function on autopilot until the new note is unfurled and free for only his eyes to read.
"Love is a thing, well, it's kind of like quicksand:
The more you are in it, the deeper you sink.
And when it hits you, you've just got to fall.
5:00 Saturday?"
If Zexion is breathing, he doesn't know it, he feels only that all the oxygen has left the room and he is being kept alive only by the fire that Demyx lit within him. It certainly is a good thing that it's not until later, when Zexion is re-reading the note for the hundredth time that he turns it over to find Demyx's phone number printed neat and precise across the back.
A/N: Nothing to say but sorry for this.
-Reiver