A/N: Whooyes. This is by far one of my favorites. And the way this turned out, I'm quite proud of myself. So I hope you enjoy it too. Obvious disclaimers, as I don't own anything here except the plot. Rated for lots of things. I don't feel like listing them all.
Started: November 28, 2007
Finished: December 10, 2007---
Sometimes I feel like that night was the best and worst night of my life.
Ever.
The smell of beer and alcohol was eminent in the small bar, even from backstage. The smell was even obvious on me, which made be gag. Every time I left his godforsaken place, I went home and promptly scrubbed myself raw with every single product I could think of. The alcohol haunted me, in the worst ways, brought back unwanted memories.
"And now, give a round of applause for our favorite little nymph, Demyx!" The voice was promptly ignored.
Why did I work in a place like this?
I wasn't 'qualified' to work anywhere else. They wouldn't even give me a chance to prove them wrong. I applied at a lot of placed on the island, mostly lots of bars and cafés. I could sing, I knew I could. At least, my mother always said so.
I made my way towards the round, small stage, surrounded by what looked to be a chain-link fence. A few feet away from this barrier was a microphone upon a stand. The stand was bent in a few various directions, but was nothing compared to the baby grand piano that sat only a few feet away from it. Said piano was missing about five keys, and was supported on one end by a chair because one of the legs of the piano had broken off. Even the stage was beat up, but I felt slightly more comfortable to walk on it now than I had when I had first taken this job.
Outside the chain-link fence was utter chaos. And I mean that literally. With my fight-or-flight reactions, I would have just ran off, fence or not. But I needed this job; I needed the money. Food doesn't buy itself, or grow off trees. Well, technically, it does. But I'm no thief by any means.
Okay, back on topic.
Men and women alike fought, threw things, slid everywhere and attacked each other as if it were the new, latest fashion. Not that they KNEW anything about fashion. I'm not saying that I do, but this island isn't exactly known for the beautiful people who come off of it. Note the sarcasm.
I was quite glad that there was something separating me from these animals.
From behind me, a voice met my ears. It was so low I was surprised I could hear it, and so sudden I was surprised that I didn't jump or flinch.
I am not a chicken, alright?
"Demyx, let's just get it over with."
I gave a faint shrug of my shoulders, before turning. I watched my companion, a boy I had met during my days of work here in hell. He was a cute little blond; blue eyes, a calm seriousness surrounding him that used to make me nervous. We hit it off easily, but sometimes I can see that he gets annoyed with my behavior.
Many do.
He didn't speak much of himself, or the home he left to come here. But sometimes he spoke of a redhead with entrancing green eyes with an attitude to boot. I dubbed him 'Roxas's Old Man.' (which would have offended him if it weren't true; they had a 13 year age difference.)
A sad smile would linger on his face after we had those conversations. Sometimes it made me wonder what happened to the guy.
Roxas took a seat behind the piano, I behind the mic. No one took much notice of us. No one noticed the start of the slow song, dragged out beautifully thanks to Roxas and his mad piano skills. No one noticed when I started singing, which I might add was JUST as beautiful as the piano. Modesty is key, people.
The people who ignored us simply went on with their business, which was to fight, drink, and yell obscenities at each other.
Unfortunately for yours truly and the little blond at the piano, the song ended abruptly when a bottle was thrown at the fence, its contents dropping to the floor with a crash. I flinched, Roxas slammed his hands down on the piano in a small fit of anger. Laughter erupted from our predicament. From behind me, Roxas dragged my arm, dragging me off the stage.
I didn't put up a fight.
This is how most nights ended. The mere idea of spending the rest of my life like this scared the shit out of me, let me tell you. I would be some old man, with the old man Roxas, and we would be playing in an old bar, for old people. Maybe I was over exaggerating (Roxas certainly would have said so) but damnit! I couldn't do this forever! I'd end up killing myself. Not that I wouldn't have done that anyways…
Ahem.
That's another story.
Roxas hadn't let me go until we got inside of our old, beat up shack. I say 'our' because after the turn of events in my life, I had nowhere else to go. I met him at work. And he invited me to live with him. He was a really, really nice boy, wasn't he? Finding people like that around here that wouldn't rape you or ask for anything in return was pretty damn hard to come across.
Once we got inside, we stopped in front of my room. He gave me a stern look that almost frightened me, and these words:
"Don't worry, Dem. It'll get better soon, 'kay? Real soon. Promise."
Without letting me respond, he patted the back of my hand and walked to his room. A faint smile crossed my face. The boy was a mystery, that much was sure.
Though, I had the dreading feeling in my stomach that he was oh-so wrong. Things could only get worse. I knew that better than I knew anything else.
With my brooding thoughts tucked dangerously away in my mind, I slid into my own room, shutting the door behind me.
I glanced about the small room, with only a bed, which was next to the only small window, and a dresser. It wasn't as bad as most places, and I was glad to have it. I sat down on my bed, which was a mess of blankets and pillows. Out of all things, I did love my bed, no matter how small it was. It was my place of comfort; the blankets were able to hide me from the surrounding world, the terrors in it. The pillows were able to drown out the yelling and screaming that came from the past.
I opted for staring out the window. The midnight sky was darker with the clouds that seemed to always loom around this forsaken island. There's another thing I can't stand about this place. It was always gloomy and dark, like it was going to rain or snow. But it never did. It only left the impression, but always remained gray-skied. I couldn't even remember the last time I seen the sun or a blue sky.
The weather had finally gotten to me, and I was forced to turn around so my back was presented to the window. Said room was lit with a dimming candle. The only sounds I could hear were coming from outside, further from where we lived. Those sounds were only that of the waves hitting against the shore, and the ring of bells on boats. The sounds weren't that interesting anymore. My eyes wandered around the room and rested upon my dresser, or more the object that was on my dresser. I leaned over to pluck it from the spot, feeling the polished wood of the box come in contact with my slim fingers. On the sides were carved various things, one of those being my name.
I smiled as I opened it, a small tinkling melody slowly filled the room. Inside the box was a picture of a woman, with dirty blond hair and blue green eyes, similar to my own. She smiled at the camera, at me. On the underside of the lid was a mirror, which I had used to stare at my reflection in wonder.
My mother and I really looked nothing alike, in my eyes.
I can vaguely remember people telling me I looked exactly like her. But she was so beautiful, I couldn't believe that I could compare to anything like that. I still don't.
With a sigh, I propped the still opened music box back on the dresser, the music continuing to flow out of it softly.
A sigh and turn later, I laid back on my bed to wrap myself in the mass of blankets and buried my head in the pile of pillows.
There wasn't much time left to think after that. Right when my eyes had closed, my world went into a peaceful black.
--
"Is it really bad to spend a little…"
"Don't start with me! You know damn well how your 'quality time' goes!"
"You know that he won't…"
"He will be pissed."
The last time I recalled, Roxas didn't sound like any of the two voices I woke up to later that night. In fact, these voices sounded much more manly than Roxas. No offense to the short blond, but it was true. And what the hell? Why were there other voices besides Roxas's in my room? It was possible I was dreaming still. The voices were arguing after all. I was set on pushing them back, until I heard a voice that was undeniably Roxas's.
"He's going to wake up if both of you keep fighting. You know what'll happen if we don't do this."
His words seemed to take affect, and the other two voices simultaneously shuddered.
I had to keep from shaking in my bed, and the ol' fight-or-flight was going off again. This had to be a dream. In fact, it was probably almost down. Roxas would come wake me up at noon, and we'd eat a late breakfast, then go out to play by the beach. Yes, that's exactly what was going to happen. Pancakes seemed good enough right about now.
My thoughts almost made me believe that I was indeed dreaming, until I felt a pair of arms pluck me from my haven – blankets and all – only to throw me over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I really don't know how they managed to keep me ASLEEP while manhandling me like this. Honestly. But that was beside the point. The situation I was currently in wasn't exactly normal, to say the least. I was in a situation that could have been life or death. I could have been raped, stabbed, thrown into the ocean… The possibilities were really endless. These kinds of things tested even the brightest crayon in the box.
So when my reaction from my thoughts that flashed by in a matter of seconds was to let out a blood-curdling scream, I believe I was completely justified.
The person carrying me jerked and dropped me. I feel in a heap on the very uncomfortable, hard wood floor, the blankets around me falling off my head to reveal the three people in the room.
They all looked genuinely shocked. One was indeed Roxas, with his mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. The tall man next to him I recognized easily. This had to be the oh-so famous Axel I heard so much about. He was obviously the one who'd been assigned to carry me, as he was clutching his ear and glaring icily at me with those viridian eyes. Heh. Oops? Served him right.
The other I had never seen in my life. His hair was pink. Frickin' pink! I know my hair isn't exactly normal or anything, but my hair is not pink.
This would have been so much more humorous if they weren't trying to kidnap me.
--
A/N: Yet another fanfiction. This one is planned out, far more than my other ones. XD So, review, all that good stuff. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Adios.
